The Ridiculous Notion
by Nattish
Summary: --Harry/Draco, mpreg-- Draco thinks he is pregnant, but Harry won't believe it for a minute. Regardless, Draco prepares for their child with eagerness.
1. Babies

The Ridiculous Notion by Natt

Pairing: Harry/Draco

Summary: Draco thinks he is pregnant, but Harry won't believe it for a minute. Regardless, Draco prepares for their child with eagerness.

Notes: Thank you, Kate (maltkate22), for beta'ing this story!

---

**Chapter One**: Babies

Draco knew the precise moment it happened. Harry had been on top of him, inside him, and panting furiously. His hands were on Harry's sweaty face, feeling his nose and dark, soft eyelashes. They hadn't bothered to pull down the sheets of their large, squeaking bed, into whose coverlet Draco's heels were currently digging as he propelled his hips toward Harry's. They were the only two people in the world, and when Harry shuddered between his legs he called Draco's name in such a way that Draco thought there would never be anything but happiness ever again.

Afterward, he kept saying Draco's name as he nuzzled him and held him close. Draco recalled kissing Harry's damp head, which lay on his chest.

There was once an article in _Witch Weekly_---and because Draco had dignity, he would never admit to having read that trash, thank you very much---that said the only time a wizard got pregnant was when he made love with a man very special to him and when that man found him very special in return. And, yes, Draco knew that time he and Harry had made love that things were just as the article said: they were in love and they were going to have a baby. He was sure of it.

Harry was not so sure.

"Draco," he said on a fine summer day, "don't be such a romantic. A baby? Really."

"Listen to me, Potter! I felt it inside me---"

"Well, of course you did, darling." He gave Draco a patronizing grin. "How could you not?"

"Don't be a pervert at a time like this." He snatched the _Daily Prophet_ out of Harry's hands and smacked him over the head with it. "And get your feet off the table."

Draco went back to his book on the opposite end of the sofa. That was certainly the last time he would be speaking to Harry until he admitted that they were having a baby. How could Harry not believe him? Draco's stomach was practically popping out of his shirt! It was round and swollen and---

Well...no, it wasn't round at all. And technically he hadn't put on any weight whatsoever. But in a few months---Harry would see.

"What are you reading?" Harry asked.

Draco ignored him.

He felt the breeze on his neck from an open window behind them. He left the book on his lap and stretched his arms over the back of the sofa, feeling the light, which shined into the room and heated up the floor and furniture. The tree leaves had been swaying all afternoon; it reminded him of long days on the veranda with his father and mother, whose hair had fluttered under the golden sun. For hours they had looked out over the lawns, which were dotted with trees and slit down the middle by a cool blue stream. He loved summer.

"Draco?"

He continued to ignore Harry, thinking that they should go on a picnic. Right away! Under a tree, one just like they'd had at the mansion. And they could do it with the baby once it arrived!

Suddenly there were lips and Harry's annoying whisper on the side of his neck. "Are you snubbing me?"

"Yes," Draco sighed, looking out the window.

"Please don't."

"Can't help it. You're disagreeable and nasty."

"Draco," Harry said firmly, "you're not pregnant. Forget about it."

Draco shut his book and stood up. "We're going to be late if we don't start getting ready," he said, leaving the room.

He stayed in the shower for twenty extra minutes that day, even though he was finished washing; the water was hot and relaxing, and Harry was irritating him so much that he didn't mind the wrinkles appearing on his hands. When he went to their bedroom, wrapped in a towel, Harry was on the edge of the bed in his rumpled blue robes looking bored.

"Take a little longer next time," he said.

Draco shed the towel without acknowledging him and dug around in the wardrobe for something suitable. He tossed his lightweight scarlet robes onto the bed, and picked up his wand and cast a charm to press out all the wrinkles. He cast the same charm on the robes Harry was wearing.

Harry jumped, patting his chest like a buffoon. "You could have warned me!"

"You could wear something that doesn't make you look like you were dragged from the gutter."

"These are my favorite robes."

"They're too short on you. You've had them for years."

"Fine," Harry snapped, and began to undress.

Draco pulled his robes tightly around his body and turned from side to side in the mirror. Maybe someone would notice something about his stomach today. He smiled.

"Are you ready?" Harry asked. He was wearing Muggle clothes now.

Draco nodded, and as soon as he put on his shoes they were off. Whenever they took a cab Harry complained that Draco was elbowing him as he primped, at which point Draco would elbow him on purpose; so they took Harry's stupid SUV, which he kept much neater than he kept himself. It was comfortable and spacious enough for Draco to cast a series of drying charms on his hair. They didn't speak throughout the ride.

Hermione lived about an hour's drive away, in a less urban town that Draco didn't care to learn the name of. It was Muggle-populated, he knew that much. The front door was painted cherry red, while the rest of the house was white as eggshells. It was surrounded by grass and other lovely houses.

"Hello!" Hermione cried upon seeing them. She looked tired but cheerful as she whipped off her apron and opened the door wider for them. "I hope you're hungry. There are hors d'oeuvres on the table," she said, seeing Draco take out a little parcel, "and gifts go over there." She indicated the direction and dashed into the kitchen.

"Here," said Harry, taking Draco's cloak and hanging it on the rack.

He looked at Draco for a long moment and then leaned to give him a kiss. Draco sighed against his mouth; he couldn't be angry at Harry for long. Harry was pulling him closer by the shoulders when a jovial voice boomed nearby.

"Harry, mate!" It was Weasley. He clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Still lovey-dovey? What's it been---five, six months?"

"Two years," Harry corrected. "We've been living together for two years."

"Right, right." His hair was a clump of dry curls and as red as ever. His freckles stood out. They hadn't seen him in a while, but he was the same annoying Weasel. "Malfoy," he greeted.

Draco inclined his head.

"Well, then," said Weasley. He was still smiling. "Come on, Harry. Grab a drink and we'll catch up."

Weasley took him by the arm, and Harry looked over his shoulder at Draco as his friend steered him away.

Draco found himself wandering away from the other guests, who were in the living room and backyard. He went to the dining room, where indoor plants thrived in the windows and came in green and deeper green and manuals on gardening sat in a tiny bookcase. A pot of small, soft flowers adorned the mantle, where one could admire a display of photographs as well. A particularly lovely one contained a woman with thick brown hair, a man with friendly eyes and an olive complexion, and a little boy. Next to that was a photo of single child, a baby girl.

_Hermione's family_, he thought.

He leaned closer to the photographs.

"Draco?" someone asked from a doorway at the far end of the room. "Is that you in there?"

"Yes."

"You're not stealing our sconces, are you?"

"No," he laughed, and turned around.

Hermione was wiping her hands on a dishtowel. She had flushed cheeks and the apron slung over her shoulder, and she cocked her head as if Draco wrinkling his nose at the dust on the picture frames were the most amusing thing she'd seen all day.

"Well, I've just finished," she said, "and I'm looking for a helper to set the table with."

"If I must..." he said, following her into the kitchen.

It was a calming activity. The rattle of plates, bowls, and silverware was rhythmic enough that it helped him sigh some of his worry about the pregnancy right out of his body. Hermione chattered about her husband and the children.

"Regina---now, that child is a handful. Whoever said boys were tougher to raise was wrong."

"But she's hardly a year old," said Draco.

"Well, she's able to get around on her own now, and while she's having a ball it's quite a nuisance to me."

Draco carefully set a plastic cup next to one of the smaller plates at the end of the table. The children would be sitting over here.

"It sounds fun to me...."

"I suppose it is," she said thoughtfully. "Just a little." She left the room and returned with a large basket of glasses. "I'm so happy David agreed to stay home with them. If I had to quit my job to run after them all day, I don't know what I'd do."

"Don't you wish you had more?"

Hermione handed Draco a couple glasses, and he set those out on the green tablecloth too.

"More what?" she asked.

"More children."

"Heavens, no! Why would I want that?"

"Well, you only have two. I should imagine everyone would want many more than that."

She laughed. "What's got into you?"

He sneered the best he could at the large daisy painting on the opposite wall. "Doesn't matter."

"I don't believe you. Why are you in here talking about my kids when you're usually outside playing with them?"

Oh, the way her stare made his neck prickle!

"Hermione," he said suddenly. "Hermione, can you keep a secret?"

"You know me better than that."

He hurried over to her and they sat down and bowed their heads conspiratorially.

"Hermione" ---his voice was hushed, because he feared someone would come around the corner--- "I think---what I mean to say---well..."

"What, what?"

"Harry would kill me if anyone knew!"

"I won't tell a soul, so spit it out."

"I'm pregnant! I know it's true, it has to be, but Harry won't believe me."

She put her hand to her mouth, without words for several moments. Then she said, "Are you sure? Does it happen accidentally?"

"I think it's possible. Shouldn't _you_ know these things? Tell me it's possible."

"It is. I think. Yes! I've read about men who never intended to get pregnant, and out of nowhere they have a round belly."

"I've always wanted a bigger family, you know, and definitely with Harry. But I don't know what to do. He doesn't believe me."

"Harry's a mediwizard. He has to believe you."

"That's not it. He says I'm being a romantic, that I'm imagining it or something. He thinks it's rubbish."

"Harry," said Hermione, rolling her eyes. "He's silly. He...doesn't accept big changes sometimes. He'll come around, Draco, just give him some time to adjust."

"You should have heard him. He didn't just act like it wasn't true. He acted like the concept of me getting pregnant by him was the silliest thing in the world."

"Do you really think Harry would think anything like that?"

"I don't know. What if it means he doesn't...well, what if it means he doesn't believe me because he thinks the two of us could never make a baby? It takes two wizards who deeply care for each other to get one of them pregnant, you know---"

"That's just a rumor," she scolded.

"It could be true."

"Even if it were true, that's not the reason Harry would think you're not pregnant. Harry loves you. He can't keep his eyes off you."

"That doesn't mean anything at all, Granger! What if---"

"Stop! You're being ridiculous. And don't call me 'Granger.'" She swatted him with her dishtowel and stood up. "Will you help me bring out the food?"

"If I absolutely _must_."

"You know you don't mind."

Draco moved his fingers down the long counter as he followed her in the kitchen. The room was humid and the counter stocked with browned, rich dishes waiting to be eaten.

"Tell me what to do," he said calmly, looking down at the apple crumble. "You don't think he'd leave me if we had a baby?"

"No." Her voice was solid. She turned to look him in the eye. "Not Harry."

"You're probably right." He put his hands on his face. "I'm nervous."

"Like I said, give him time. Keep talking to him, but don't push him."

Draco carried the heavier platters and Hermione carried the bowls of salad, fruit, and bread. They made two trips, going on about his pregnancy.

"You can have all Regina's old clothes, if you want them," said Hermione. "She's got mostly dresses, but a few sets of unisex robes."

"Well, I don't want any dresses."

"You might need them."

"No. I won't stand for it if our first child isn't a boy. I want to gel his hair back and teach him to be extremely rude." Hermione laughed. "And I really want to be right."

"About what?" she asked.

"About the pregnancy!"

"You haven't even been tested? For God's sake, Draco---"

"I don't need to be tested. I know I'm right," he concluded. "Yes. I know when I'm pregnant."

She shook her head as they set the last things down, and rested her hands on her hips in contentment. The meal looked vast and tasty across the table, enough for all the adults and children who could be heard talking outside the dining room.

Hermione and Draco opened the drapes and the windows, letting the warm summer air flow in.

---

"Still with that Adrienne woman?" Harry asked.

"No, no," said Ron. "Split up. I'm with Martha now. She's lovely."

"Is she here?"

"Ah, no. She, uh, was busy...."

"Oh."

No matter how awkward the subject, Harry thought, it felt wonderful to get away from home life and talk with Ron. He sighed, leaning back in his chair.

They were sitting on the backyard porch with cold glasses of pumpkin juice, which drizzled and left clear rings of fluid on the wooden table. Hermione's boy, Roger, was playing in the garden nearby with friends. When Harry saw him a few moments earlier, Roger had dashed over and jumped into his arms. Harry wished him a happy birthday and slipped him a shining galleon, and every once and a while the boy would grin at Harry as though it were a magnificent secret.

It was a peaceful day, relaxing, drinking, and eating....

"So, what's life like with Malfoy?" Ron asked.

"I really wish you would call him 'Draco.'"

Ron shrugged his shoulders. "I'm doing the best I can with the whole arrangement. I haven't been around to make friends with him like Hermione has."

"I know. You're doing well enough."

"Tell me what it's like. Does he nag? Adrienne used to do that."

"A little. In a good way, I mean."

"Hmm."

"Actually, just this morning he was on me about---well, if you'll believe me---babies."

"Babies!" he spluttered. He set his drink aside to wipe the juice off his shirt.

"Yes. He said to me, 'Harry, sweet, we're having a baby,' and I told him he was mad."

"Good man, Harry. Malfoy. He's the type to want children, yeah. It's Hermione giving him these ideas, I bet."

Harry smiled. "He and Hermione are close. They go out to the cinema together and everything. You should see Draco in the Muggle world. It's hilarious. He loves it, but he won't ever admit it."

"You know him well." Ron was looking over the expansive gardens, a little twitch to his lips as he watched Roger and a friend dump soil on one another's heads.

"Of course. We've been together a long time."

"I, uh" ---Ron cleared his throat--- "I've been a little regretful lately. I've sort of been wishing I'd got a job around here. You and Hermione are still close. And even Malfoy is in your little clique."

"You know you're our best friend no matter how far away you live."

Ron chuckled weakly. "I don't suppose I can slay dragons around here. Besides, Charlie would be lonely without me."

"He would. And you love your job, Ron, so you should stay at it. Keep coming around by floo and we'll all go out to dinner sometime. Just the three of us."

"Yeah. I'll do that."

"Hello, Harry, Ron," someone said over their shoulders. Harry looked up as David, Hermione's husband, came around and took a seat next to them. "How are things?" he asked.

"Fine, just fine," said Harry. He was still eyeing Ron's melancholy expression.

"What about Romania, Ron? How are things out there?"

Ron's eyes lit up, he turned to David, and began an exciting tale about a remarkably ferocious dragon.

---

"The cake was beautiful, wasn't it?" Draco exclaimed.

"Beautiful," said Harry, closing the door behind them and switching on the lights. The sun had set while they were driving home.

Draco hung up his cloak and Harry's jacket and went into the living room.

"And that icing! I want to know how Hermione made those designs. I want to make cakes like that."

"You can hardly boil an egg."

"Shush," said Draco, and plopped onto the sofa. To his annoyance, Harry did the same thing but he laid himself out and put his head in Draco's lap.

Harry hummed deeply in his throat when Draco threaded his fingers in his hair.

"Can you believe Roger's six years old now?" asked Harry.

"It's called growing up. Children tend to do that, you see."

"Mm."

Draco smirked at his content face. "Harry?"

"Draco...."

"Your shoes are on the couch."

Harry sighed loudly and toed off his shoes. They fell to the floor, and he gave a yawn and stretch.

"You can hardly be tired," Draco commented. "It's only six o'clock."

"Been talking, talking, talking all day. All people want to do is talk at parties. Can't enjoy the surroundings. Hermione and David's yard is lovely."

"Yeah. I was watching the children play in the garden."

"Me too."

Draco's fingers stroked over his scar, and then down his nose and onto his lips. Harry kissed his fingers many times and bit them until Draco began to laugh.

"Not so hard, Potter!"

"You say that now. Wait until later tonight."

Draco snorted, pinching Harry's nose and then shoving him off his lap. "Get off, get off."

"I don't feel well. Take care of me, won't you?"

"No, I want to go to bed."

"Oh," said Harry, suddenly cured and helping Draco to his feet, "so you're eager for the real festivities start."

"You are such a bore." He avoided Harry's hands as he walked away, but Harry grasped his body from behind. Harry put wet kisses on his neck and ear.

"Stop that," Draco moaned. But Harry's lips felt so nice that Draco only put half the intended effort into it. "I want to change my clothes and then I want to talk to you about something."

"It can wait until later."

"Potter, be reasonable---"

But Harry wasn't in the mood to be reasonable, so just this once Draco relented, and they stumbled into the bedroom and under the covers without any more words. It came to Draco's attention that Harry was not as tired or ill as he had complained. He managed to stay up for a couple more hours. In more way than one.

---

Harry wasn't in bed when Draco awoke the next day. He found a note on the bedside table. Apparently, Weasley hadn't left for Romania yet and they had gone out to watch a Quidditch match. Fine with Draco. He had shopping to do and Harry would get in the way. After washing and dressing he went to call Hermione by floo; David was strolling past the other end of the fireplace, toweling his wet hair. He was startled, and belatedly remembered to cover his bare torso.

"I'll never get used to seeing your head in my fireplace, Draco," he said unhappily.

"What a silly Muggle."

"Malfoy, is that you?" he heard from behind David. Hermione turned up over his shoulder and crouched to see Draco face-to-face. "Watch your tongue."

"I'm terribly sorry," said Draco, "but I was so excited that I completely forgot myself."

"I'm sure. Do you need something?"

"Yes! Let's go out. I want to look at baby things."

"I'm in the middle of feeding Regina."

"Take her along. Oh! She can be my guinea pig."

Hermione snorted. "She's spoiled enough. She doesn't need to be pampered by the likes of you."

"Go on. We'll have fun."

"Fine. Give me a half hour and I'll floo to your place."

When Hermione arrived she had Regina on her hip and Roger trailing behind her. They were very sweet children in their little colorful robes.

"Your husband has a nice chest," said Draco.

"You talk entirely too much," Hermione replied, setting Regina in Draco's arms as he reached out. "Where's Harry?"

"He went out somewhere with Weasley."

"Oh, David's out, too. Fishing with his father."

"I wanted to go with Dad and Grandpa," said Roger, swinging his legs on the edge of the sofa, "but I have to wait until I can cast a pole right."

"Is that so?" asked Draco.

"Yeah. But I'm going to be a real fisherman someday, like my dad. I'll probably have a boat."

"I don't doubt it. Will Regina be your first mate?" He turned to look at her closely.

"She's too little. Can I use the loo?"

"_May I_," said Hermione.

Roger shrugged, and Draco shooed him down the hallway, wondering why children had to drag their hands along the walls as they went.

"He told me before we left he didn't have to go," said Hermione.

"Leave him be. I think he just likes to play with our razors."

"_What_?"

"A joke, Granger."

Draco commenced in lifting Regina in the air, watching her squeal, and then making grotesque faces at her until Roger had returned. They all piled into the floo and arrived in Diagon Alley appropriately sooty.

The first thing Roger did was ask for ice cream, at which point Regina shouted, "Keem!" which Draco supposed meant she liked that idea. Hermione said it was too early, and they moved down the long street toward Gringotts. It was not especially crowded because toward the beginning of summer there were no students clogging the place up with their cauldrons and new books. When they had finished at the bank, Hermione suggested Flourish and Blotts for baby books, but Draco simply couldn't wait to pick out a sippy cup; so after dragging Roger from a broom display they found themselves in a shop that sold miscellaneous kitchen items. The children's section was heavenly.

"What about this one with the whirly things?" Hermione wondered.

"It's too complicated. It would confuse my baby. Can't have him going cross-eyed or anything."

"Funny, I assumed you'd be having a genius for a child."

"Give him some time! Soon he'll be the smartest Slytherin who ever lived."

"So not only have you decided on a gender, but you've decided on a House. How far along are you?"

"I'm two weeks pregnant, thanks. And of course I've decided on a House. No child of mine would be anything but Slytherin."

"You forget---if you're pregnant, your child has Harry's blood in it, and I'm sure his genes are just as stubborn as he is."

"Nonsense." Draco looked at his stomach, and said strictly, "As long as you're living inside of me, you're a Slytherin."

Hermione was about to reply; however, she glanced down and found Roger was not beside her. She turned around, saying, "Draco, did you see which way---?"

But then she saw that Roger had run off to the knife section and was wielding an enormous meat cleaver. She left Regina with Draco and hurried away.

Together Regina and Draco picked a sippy cup: a smiling duck that looked straight upward.

"Why, look, the ducky's bill is the sippy part, Reggie!"

She clapped, so he supposed this was just the one.

They went to find Hermione and Roger, and neither of them looked very happy---Roger in particular, with his red eyes.

"I cut my finger," he mumbled.

"Oh no," said Draco.

"Mummy casted a spell and it doesn't hurt anymore."

"Good."

Hermione put her hand on Roger's head for a moment, looking doleful, like she had failed him in some way. She picked him up with a sigh at his weight, and they all walked to the counter to purchase the sippy cup.

"Are you sure you want to buy this so early?" she asked once they had left. "What if Harry wants to help out when he sees eye to eye?"

"I just want a few things, just to hold me over---just to look at."

After purchasing a couple pregnancy books for men and having sandwiches at a quaint restaurant, they were outside Madam Malkin's.

"Can I have ice cream yet?" asked Roger.

"I don't know," Hermione replied. "You did wander off earlier."

"But I was good after lunch."

Draco smiled, not mentioning they'd had lunch only five minutes ago. He said, "I'll take Regina with me if you take my friend Roger to get ice cream. A six-year-old deserves some respect!"

"Yeah!" Roger cried.

"I'll even pay," he added.

Hermione shook her head at them. "Fine, fine. Come on, love." She took Draco's Galleon and Roger's hand and they disappeared into the crowd.

"Well, little one," he said to Regina, whose head rested on his shoulder. "Shall we?"

They entered Madam Malkin's.

"Do you have pre-made clothes? For infants?" Draco asked an assistant with a large red hairdo. She put down her Quidditch magazine and led them to a far corner of the shop, where he gasped at a little yellow dress. It turned out to be much too big for a newborn, however, and he reminded himself if he had anything besides a boy he'd put the baby right back where it came from, close his legs, and forget he'd ever given birth.

Fifteen minutes later, he had a set of frilly robes slung over his arm, only because he was sure Harry would be embarrassed to see any son of his in those, a set of plain black robes, and a shirt with a turtle on the front. Hermione came in, with Roger shuffling at her side and slurping a tall pink cone, and immediately spotted him.

"Did you find anything you liked?" she asked.

"Yes," Draco said excitedly. "Look at the turtle shirt!"

"Very nice."

"Regina seemed to like it. She has good taste."

"Yes, she does," Hermione cooed.

Regina squirmed in Draco's arms, seeing the ice-cream her brother held; Roger gave her a tiny lick.

"Why's Draco helping us buy clothes for Reggie?" asked Roger.

"He's not buying clothes for her," said Hermione, glancing at Draco. "Draco is just expecting a friend, who happens to be about Regina's size, and he wants his friend to have plenty of clothes when he comes."

Roger looked at the trousers Draco was holding up to Regina. "His friend is really small."

They sent Roger to a bench a few feet away to eat his ice cream without getting it on the clothes.

"You can tell him the truth, you know," Draco said quietly. "I don't mind."

"I don't want to get Roger's hopes up. What if we told him you were having a baby, and he was excited, and then we found out you weren't pregnant at all?"

"I wouldn't be here shopping if I weren't pregnant!"

"You told me yesterday you hadn't been tested. I won't believe it until I hear it from a mediwizard, and you happen to live with one."

"Harry wouldn't agree to test me."

"You should ask. He might not believe you're pregnant, but he wouldn't dare tell you no if you asked for something."

Draco grinned to himself. "Yeah. He's a pushover, isn't he?"

She laughed. "He'd fly around the world nude on a broomstick if it made you happy. But if he does say no, then call me in and we'll corner him together."

"What would I do without you, Hermione?"

"You'd certainly be lonely." She held up some lavender robes with embroidered flowers. "What about these?"


	2. Relationships

The Ridiculous Notion

by Natt

---

**Chapter two**: Relationships

The five men were hunched over a table in the middle of a crowded restaurant, which was so thick with laughter, the banging of hungry customers, and the scraping of chairs on the floor that one had to lean forward to hear the person right next to him. In addition to the commotion of the restaurant, the five men were so engrossed in the joke Ron had just told that they almost missed the shrill noise that came into the air. The laughing at their table died down, and they began to look for the source of it.

Dean patted his pockets, removed a mobile phone, and said, "Sorry, this might be important."

Ron watched over his shoulder as Dean slipped past the waitress, who was just returning to them. "Now, what on earth was that gadget?"

"A mobile," Harry replied. "A Muggle telephone you can carry around with you."

"What else will they come up with?"

"Can I have another firewhisky?" Harry asked the waitress. He realized she was standing with their tab in hand, looking very cross to find they weren't all going to leave. She must have been quite busy. He took it from her, and said, "Thanks."

He turned back to the others as she left, to listen to Ron and Neville contemplate the oddities of the Muggle world. Harry was surprised Ron was so out of touch with the Muggles, having dated a couple in the past. When Dean returned, he seemed anxious.

"I've got to run," he said.

"Sorry?" said Seamus, his mouth filled with steak.

"_I've got to run_," Dean said louder.

"Oh no, we were having a good time," said Neville.

"Well, it's now or never! I think they might be considering me for the job."

While everyone nodded their understanding, Seamus only managed to look bothered. "These executive sorts, they're really bigheaded, aren't they? Calling you whenever they like for an interview?"

"Mr. Stevens is a busy man, and this is the job of my dreams. I'll take what I can get." Dean tossed his share of Sickles onto the table and turned away. He made his way out into the rain, head ducked and hands in his pockets.

Seamus watched him intently as he left.

They fell back into conversation, the swarming, hot restaurant reminding Harry of the murmur of the Great Hall while they were at Hogwarts. He and his former roommates made an effort to meet up here at the Cackling Cauldron once a month so as not to lose touch, and things were as amicable as they had been when they were students. This was the first time in several months all five of them could be present at once, so it was not a huge surprise when Dean had to leave early.

"I wish he'd tell that Stevens fellow to bugger off," said Seamus. "I mean, what's more important? His friends or his job?"

"I'd say his job," said Ron. "Most people like to eat. I bet Dean feels the same way."

"He's been having a hard time finding a newspaper to hire him, hasn't he?" asked Neville.

"Well, yes," Seamus agreed reluctantly. "The _Prophet_ is too high profile for a beginning writer and the _Quibbler_'s a load of crock. But Muggle newspapers? Don't know why he bothers with them."

"Like he said, he'll take what he can get," said Harry, who recalled that he himself had no trouble achieving one of the top-paying mediwizard jobs at Saint Morbus Treatment Center. He had no idea what Dean was going through, but he was sympathetic.

Seamus went on: "I keep telling him that Dad's got a perfectly nice job for him at the shop. He'd be working right beside me and we'd be best mates again."

"The day I see Dean working at a bicycle shop I'll run naked through Knockturn Alley," Ron said around a bite of pie. "Plus, he wants to live near Ginny. He's not going to move all the way to Ireland to do something he knows nothing about."

Seamus snorted. "Ginny..."

"Got something to say about her?"

"I just can't imagine why Dean would revolve his life around some girl he's not even married to."

"That girl is my sister, Finnigan---"

"Oi, lower your voice, Ron," Harry snapped. Harry, too, threw a look at Seamus as if to say, _I'll beat you if you talk rudely about Ginny Weasley._

"Look," said Seamus, "I'm just saying he'd be better off if he'd stop chasing around a job that he never gets and a relationship that's never been very serious."

"They _have_ been together since Hogwarts," said Harry.

"Off and on," Seamus reminded him.

"Well," Neville added quietly. "It sounds to me like you're jealous."

Seamus looked aghast. He leaned toward his soup, picking up his spoon as he answered. "I am not jealous."

They spoke of happier things throughout the rest of supper, only interrupted by the reappearance of the waitress with Harry's firewhisky. (She noticed they were still focused on their meals, and walked away with her fingers tapping madly against her thigh.) Neville was considering asking a young lady, who he'd met at a gardening convention, to marry him. Ron, with waving arms and wide eyes, told them how sure he was that the Wigtown Wanderers would be pulverized in their match against the Applebee Arrows.

"So, Harry," said Neville, while Seamus and Ron argued about the competence of the Arrows' Beaters. "How is Draco?"

"Sorry?" A new group of customers were making a lot of racket next to them, taking their seats.

"_How is Draco_?"

"Oh. Fine."

"Nothing new going on?"

"No."

"I haven't seen him in a while."

"He looks the same."

"Maybe we could get together sometime---you and Draco, me and my girl---a double sort of date. I know a great restaurant---quiet---"

"I don't think," Harry said uneasily, "I don't think Draco likes...restaurants."

Neville lifted his eyebrows. "He doesn't like---?"

"Damn it!" Harry barked.

Everyone at the table looked at him.

He hadn't meant it to come out that loud. He'd only wanted to avoid getting together with Neville, for reasons he didn't care to think about just now, but his frustration at not being able to think of a polite way to decline had boiled up and shot right out of him. He took a breath, deciding to change the subject.

"Er," he said. "I forgot: Hermione asked me to pick up a starter broomstick for Roger while I'm in Diagon Alley. I should go."

"The kid's six years old! He doesn't have a starter yet?" Ron asked.

"They live in a Muggle area. What do you expect?" Harry gathered his summer cloak and slung it over his shoulder, not looking at Neville. "I need to get to Quality Quid before it closes."

"I'll come with you," said Ron.

The four paid their respective amounts and went outside, where they parted with pats on the back and promises to meet again. The sky was gray with clouds but the rain had stopped, and Harry shielded his eyes from the sun as he and Ron pushed their way up the street. Even though Quality Quidditch Supplies was closing in a half hour, children were running amok in the racing broom section, employees were worrying over hagglers, and one gray cat thought it his duty to stride about looking imperiously upon the disorder.

Harry went off on his own and quickly found the sturdiest looking starter broom. It was red and gold and made him wish he'd known the sport as a child.

After a walk around the store, he found Ron leaning against a shelf; he was mooning over a voluptuous woman. She looked a bit top-heavy to balance on a broomstick.

"32 Gardenia Circle," she murmured with dark red lips, and wrote it on a bit of parchment and slipped it into Ron's hand. She sauntered away, eyeing Harry discreetly. Ron noticed him looking at the parchment.

"Her floo address," said Ron, his eyebrows waggling. "She invited to come over Tuesday."

"Ah."

"She's a model. She was here buying copies of a magazine for women's Quidditch things she posed in."

"Right. What about Martha?"

"What?"

"Martha. I thought you were seeing someone named Martha."

"Oh. Yeah, Harry. Martha's incredible."

---

Draco was startled when he heard the door slam that evening. Usually when Harry went out with his friends they stayed late into the night, but---he checked the clock on his bedside table---it was only 8:15.

He was surrounded in his most recent baby purchases. Hermione had told him about a store in Scotland, where he had flooed this afternoon, that had all the best infants' robes, and they all came pre-made, whereas at Madam Malkin's one had to have most items customized. He was fond of the white ones with intricate designs on the cuffs, and longed to show them to Harry to see whether he approved, but Harry still didn't believe in Draco's pregnancy.

Draco hastily put the robes into his shopping bag and stashed it in his own wardrobe. Harry never looked in there.

Harry was with Weasley in the sitting room, talking about Quidditch. Draco peered around the doorway while Harry produced two tumblers and invited Weasley to take a seat.

"Don't start drinking," Draco called. "You said you had to be at work early tomorrow."

They turned and noticed him. Harry smiled at him in greeting, but ignored his words.

"The Wanderers have got an amazing replacement Keeper waiting for a shot," Weasley was saying. "If Damon would break his arms or something, they'd have a chance at winning.

"I thought you hated the Wanderers. You sound like you want them to win," Harry replied.

"Nah, but it'd be interesting if the match were more competitive."

"Like when Potter and I played each other," said Draco, strolling in and slumping on the arm of Harry's chair.

Weasley looked up in thought. "Yes. Just like that, I suppose."

"I was the most amazing thing Hogwarts had ever seen. Of course, the only reason Potter ever beat me was because I was too busy with my studies to pay attention to something as silly as Quidditch."

"Right," Harry laughed, resting his hand on Draco's arm.

"Did you eat, then?" Draco asked, and kissed him on the head.

"Yeah."

"Good."

"It didn't occur to me to bring you something back."

"I had leftover lasagna, anyway."

Harry didn't object when Draco removed the tumbler from his hand, grimaced at its contents, and handed it back.

"You remind me of my father when you drink brandy," he said, and padded out of the room.

Weasley had been staring at their scene with his ugly weasel eyes. Draco was never comfortable with the fellow and hadn't expected to be in the room for long, but those eyes, unwavering as they were, drove him away quicker than he might have preferred. He went into the kitchen for a bottle of water and returned to the bedroom to read _Uterus Schmuterus: Pregnancy Is for Everyone_.

Half an hour later Harry came in, showered, and crawled into bed.

"Weasley gone?" Draco asked.

"Yeah."

"Tired? It's only nine."

"Not really. But I have to be up at five."

He watched Harry beat his pillow until it resembled a pancake and flop onto his side. Draco tried finishing his chapter, but something was nagging at his mind. He stuck a ribbon into his book, capped his water bottle, and snuggled up to Harry's back.

"Harry?"

"Mm?"

"Are you asleep yet?"

"Nearly."

"Oh." Draco leaned over Harry's shoulder to see his eyelids flutter. It would probably be best to talk about this when he was half asleep. "Harry?"

"Mm?"

"Just had a question."

"Mm-hmm."

"Um. Do you think it would be a good idea if we...?"

"What is it?" Harry mumbled, burying his face into the pillow.

"Well, I wonder, do you think it would be a good idea to get married?"

There was silence, a stomach twisting silence during which Draco laid his head against Harry's shoulder and hoped, if Harry was going to be a prat about this, that he had fallen asleep before Draco had finished the question.

Harry sighed at last. "What?" he asked.

"You heard me, Potter."

"Haven't we talked about marriage before?"

"Yes. You said you wanted to."

"And we agreed that we were both too busy right now to deal with it. When the time comes we'll think about it then."

Draco wasn't surprised at how awake Harry sounded now. He was often snappish about the subject. When they last discussed it, they had agreed it was too complicated a time to arrange such a thing, but that was months ago, when Draco was still going through mountains of paperwork, trying to gain his parents' estate, and it was over with now. The only thing Harry was busy with was his job, and that wasn't going away.

"I want to get married," said Draco. "I don't want to float around without being legally connected to you in some way."

Harry turned over to face him. "Is this about you being pregnant?"

"Hmm..."

"Merlin..." Harry sighed. "You have this idea that you're pregnant. Are you hounding me about marriage because you think that?"

"Hounding you?" Draco asked, annoyed. "I'm not hounding you. I'm asking you a simple question."

"A question that you already know the answer to."

"Potter!" Draco sat up and put his head in his hands. He felt Harry's eyes on him. "I want to have an ideal life for our baby."

"We already decided you weren't pregnant."

He whipped around. "Nothing was decided! You were scared of the subject, so you refused to pay attention it. But I know I'm pregnant, and I want to be prepared when the baby comes."

"Why do you have to be so difficult? Why do you think you're pregnant?"

"I don't think a thing! I _know_, damn it."

Harry rolled out of bed and strode to the other end of the room with his hands on his hips. He opened the curtains and watched the city lights out the window. It was all a blur, Draco knew, as Harry's glasses were on his bedside table, but it calmed Harry to look out at scenery; Draco supposed he liked to know there were other people out there with big problems to worry about, and he had it easy in their comfortable flat.

Draco walked to his wardrobe. He pulled out the bag of robes he'd been looking at, and Harry turned slightly at the sound of crinkling paper. He didn't say anything as Draco dumped the lot on the bed.

"I bought this today," said Draco. A blue cap with little animal ears sewn on top lay closest to him. He picked it up and brought it to Harry. Harry glanced at it, then back to the city. "We could have fun shopping together...I guess. I thought you might like to pick out Quidditch things for the baby. Did you buy Roger's starter broom?"

Harry nodded.

"Well," said Draco, playing with the cap's stretchy material. "Wouldn't you like to buy things for our own child? I found some shirts with footballs on them. I couldn't find anything with brooms or Snitches at the shop I went to. It's sort of a cross between Muggle and wizard, so they don't have a lot of that."

Harry's arms were folded on his chest. His jaw was tense.

"I don't know why you don't want to believe me, Harry, but I wish you would. It would be so much better if you'd help me with this. And I bet you'd be a good father...."

They stood for a few moments, until Draco began to feel very worried. Harry wasn't moving a muscle. Draco could hardly tell if he were breathing. Finally, he worked up the nerve to run his hands across Harry's shoulders. He didn't respond.

"Come to bed, won't you?" Draco asked.

Harry took in a sharp breath, as if he'd forgotten Draco was there. He unfolded his arms. He closed the curtains. He looked at his toes, which were curled tightly into the carpet. He cleared his throat.

"I think I'll sleep on the sofa," said Harry, and without another word he took his pillow and made his way to the living room.

---

Victoria was sure she had counted right. She had bought three copies of _Snitches for Witches_: one for her parents, one for her sister, and one for herself. But she was so proud she was on the front cover of this issue that she had no problem going all the way back to Diagon Alley to buy another copy, as she seemed to have misplaced one. Maybe someone would see her and ask for an autograph.

After finishing her business in the magazine section of Quality Quidditch Supplies, she was ready to pay and go to a more practical shop---Mattie's Magical Makeup was closing early today, so she had to hurry. As she walked past the toddler section she saw a man crouching in the isle. He was holding a tiny Muggle-style shirt that read, "My daddy taught me how to play Quidditch!" Victoria recognized immediately that the man was Harry Potter, and she would have gone on her way if she hadn't thought of the redheaded man who had been with him the other day.

Yes, now she remembered. The redheaded man who had been so nice in bed---Harry Potter had been standing right next to him in this very store, as though monitoring his friend's safety.

"Mister Potter?" she asked.

He stood up and looked at her blankly. "Hello."

"How are you?"

"Er, fine."

"I saw you here last week with, um, your friend?"

His brow wrinkled in confusion, and then he nodded. "Yes, you had a date with him on Tuesday."

She nearly fanned herself in pleasure because he remembered so much of it. "Well, kind of a date, yes."

"Ah."

"He was very competent. In bed, I mean." He threw a nervous glance at a nearby customer, his Adam's apple bobbing and his hands twiddling in his pockets. Victoria thought she had mentioned the wrong thing. "I'm a model---a fashion model," she said, and held up a Quidditch magazine.

"Oh. How nice."

"That's me right there on the front."

"Yes. It's lovely."

"Has, ah, your friend said anything about me?"

"Mm, no. We don't see each other often, and..."

"And?"

"Well, I don't think you and he will be...er..."

"He has a girlfriend, doesn't he?"

"No!" Harry paused. "Well, yes."

She looked down at her satin handbag, smiling faintly. "I don't suppose I'm angry, but I didn't know he was dating anyone at the moment. It's funny, really. I felt so guilty when he was at my place. I have a girlfriend, too, you see."

"I suppose that's---oh. Oh, a girlfriend, then?"

"Yes," she laughed. "When I first saw your friend he reminded me of her very much---they have very similar features---and I'd never been with a boy, so I thought 'who better to experiment with?'" Harry looked uncomfortable again, though she didn't know whether it was over the fact that they were discussing his friend's sex life or that he was discussing sex at all with a stranger. She said, "He left so quickly Tuesday that I never even caught his name. Imagine that! We talked a great deal and I never caught his name."

"It's Ron Wea---"

"Oh, don't bother! We celebrities don't want to get too involved with our fans, do we?"

"Er, no."

"He was so charming. Shame he's so sad! He told me all about his past relationships. It's usually such a turn off---don't you think?---when your lover does that. But my heart just ached for that poor boy: he told me how sad he was about someone named Adrienne he recently broke up with; and then someone named Bertha--no, wait, _Bianca_--with awfully strict rules about their relationship; and then there was Cindy, who was very nice but very religious; and then there was---"

Victoria stopped and clicked her tongue. "Mister Potter, just listen to me. I'm telling you these things you probably already know!"

He shrugged politely.

"Oh, you're just as charming as he was, Mister Potter." She laughed again and put her hand on his shoulder. "You don't want me flirting with you, though, do you? I saw you in the papers a few months ago. In a respectable, long-term relationship, are you?"

"Yes."

"How perfect! I intend to have one of those someday. Perhaps I'll be in the papers, too, do you think?"

"Er," he said, eyes flitting to her magazines. "Yes, I bet you will."

In spite of her hopes, he did not continue their talk. He said he had a busy schedule today and needed to continue his shopping, which she thought was admirable. A man of duty. His lover was lucky.

"Mister Potter," she asked before he could turn away, "may I...have your autograph?"

"Yes, sure."

Victoria beamed at him as she took a quill from her handbag. Well, if no one wanted _her_ autograph at least she would have something to brag about to Virginia. Her girlfriend was such a fan!

She watched him slink off with his hands in his pockets, continuing to look attentively at the toddler merchandise.

---

"Honestly!" Hermione exclaimed when Draco told her about the fight. "I'll give Harry a piece of my mind tonight. What time is he coming over?"

"Right after work," said Draco. "At least, he'd better, or I'll hex him in sensitive places."

"He's really not spoken to you since Sunday?"

"No more than asking me to pass the salt."

"I just don't see what's wrong with him. Harry should be thrilled. He's never had much of a family."

Draco was sitting stiffly on the couch. No matter how Hermione tried to make him relax, with tea or a little massage or recitations from _Hogwarts: A History_, he couldn't stop thinking about Harry.

"How did you let him know David and I invited the two of you over for dinner tonight?" she asked.

"I don't know. I asked him if he'd like to eat at your place and he shrugged his shoulders. I guess that means he's coming."

Hermione shook her head in exasperation, grasping his arm. Draco wanted to hear the shouts of her children in the background, and wished she hadn't sent them to her parents' house for the evening, so he might have some sort of distraction. It was only the two of them and David, who lounged nearby with a book, occasionally looking over the top to raise his eyebrows at their conversation.

A bell sounded from the kitchen.

"My rolls," said Hermione, and slid away from Draco, touching his shoulder. David offered to get them---he might have been uncomfortable being left alone with Draco---but Hermione swatted him away, and he fell back into his chair.

Draco laid his head back on the sofa. He almost wished Harry would find too much work to do at Saint Morbus and forget to show up. It was tiring trying to make Harry pay attention to him since their fight and he didn't want to put forth any more effort, especially since Harry was being so stubborn. He would leave for work before Draco woke up and return several hours later than he normally did; so with Harry's constant avoidance and irritability, Draco was feeling isolated and often found himself at Hermione's house even though he knew she and David were busy with the children.

David cleared his throat, taking off his reading glasses and sitting forward. It was such a funny gesture for someone who didn't tend to acknowledge Draco, besides in kind hellos and goodbyes, that he found himself looking up expectantly.

"You know, Hermione gave me a magical shrub for my twenty-fifth birthday," said David. "I liked it...a lot, I mean, but I didn't react much at all, and Hermione thought I was disappointed that she hadn't bought me a book or a new fishing pole or something she would have normally bought me."

"Oh," Draco said awkwardly. "That's too bad."

"Well, not exactly. It turned out fine in the end. Hermione had known I enjoyed gardening, and we only had a few herbs and flowers in the backyard at the time, so she'd went with her instincts, and her instincts told her I might like to try expanding on that garden. She was right, but the problem was, as you may have guessed, I'm not a wizard---so how was I supposed to take care of this new plant?"

"Hermione didn't think of that?"

"For once, oddly enough, she hadn't thought of everything. And that was our dilemma: she thought I was disappointed in her gift, when really I just didn't want to disappoint her by reminding her there was no way I could take care of the shrub."

"Well, what happened?"

"You see that out there?" David and Draco looked out the window, but there was nothing but blackness. "Ah...no, you don't, I guess. But if it were daytime, you'd see a beautiful, expansive garden, and it was all because of that magical shrub. Magical plants grow faster and influence other plants to grow, too---you knew that, didn't you?"

"Yes. First year Herbology."

"Well, there you have it."

"Sorry---what?"

David smiled embarrassedly. "My mother often tells me I go off subject when I'm talking. What I meant to say is that I finally got the courage to tell Hermione what the problem was, and, lo and behold, she understood completely and we were fine with one another again. I ended up digging the holes and standing aside, while she did all the magical stuff, but..."

"Um, I'm sorry..." said Draco. "I don't know why you're telling me this."

"My mother also tells me I'm no good at advice. Well" ---David dragged a hand through his hair--- "I thought that, after hearing your conversation with Hermione, it sounded a lot like my birthday present situation. Maybe, well, Harry has something on his mind that's keeping him from warming up to this pregnancy...something that you haven't considered or that has nothing to do with you."

"Do you think I've been selfish?"

"I think there's more to Harry's reaction that you might assume."

So David thought he was selfish. Draco looked at his hands, remembering how Harry avoided mention of the baby and marriage, and how until their recent spat Harry hadn't turned away from _Draco_, really, just the subjects that Draco wanted to discuss. He didn't know what Harry could be hiding, though....

There wasn't much time to consider that, because Hermione came into the room and, to Draco's surprise, Harry came in behind her. He had an upset look on his face. Draco hoped she had crushed him with her fury.

"When did you get here?" Draco drawled.

"Few minutes ago," said Harry.

Hermione sat on the arm of David's chair, her hand on his shoulder. "So what did you two talk about while I was gone?"

"Politics," said David, and returned to his book.

"Dinner is cooling. It'll be ready in a couple minutes."

Harry settled beside Draco, much closer than he'd been doing lately, and leaned so that his nose squashed against Draco's temple. "Sorry," he said.

"Did Hermione tell you to say that?" Draco replied carelessly.

"Yes. But I was going to anyway."

Draco glanced at Hermione and David, who seemed far too absorbed in each other for likelihood, and then back to Harry. "Where have you been?"

"I went home after work. Then I went for a drive because I needed to think."

"Oh."

"Draco---"

"Hermione, is it time to eat yet?" Draco asked.

"Um, yes. We can eat now." She and David rose together, but when Draco tried to move Harry held him back.

"We'll be in the kitchen in a second," said Harry. Overconfident prick. Harry spoke again as soon as the others had left. "I told you I was sorry. Do you not believe me?"

"Unlike you, I don't assume my lover is lying to me whenever I hear something unusual."

"What's so unusual about me being sorry?"

"You've been such a bastard lately that I've completely forgotten there's good side to you."

"Fine! Yeah. I know I've been rude to you this week, but why are you being rude back only now that I'm trying to apologize for it?"

The anger melted inside Draco. Perhaps it had to do with the pitiful frown line between Harry's eyebrows. He let out an audible breath. "I don't know."

Harry closed his eyes for a moment. He opened them and put his arm around Draco. It was warm. Draco leaned into it.

"Don't be angry with me," said Harry.

"I'm not. Anymore. I just want you to believe me."

"That's what I was going to tell you before. I've been doing a lot of thinking and...well, I've decided that I do believe you."

Draco pulled back so he could see Harry's face clearer. The frown line between his eyebrows was deeper, more serious, and, as far as Draco could tell, his hand was shaking gently where it lay on his knee. He rested his hand over Harry's.

"You do?" Draco asked.

"Yes. I...yes."

"Why are you nervous?"

"I'm not."

Liar. When Draco shifted forward again, pressing his shoulder into Harry's chest, a heartbeat pattered wildly against him.

"So we're having a baby," said Draco.

"I guess so."

"Are you going to tell me why you didn't believe me in the first place?"

Harry's breathing paused. For a moment, all they heard was clatter in the kitchen, and then Harry said, "I don't think it matters."

"Won't you tell me?"

"Please, don't push me on this. I've admitted that I believe you, but it's still bad knowing..."

"Knowing what?"

"You'll probably hate me for it---knowing that I want to take you in for a test before we make any preparations. We can't be sure until you've seen a mediwizard who knows about this sort of thing."

"Harry---"

Two very annoying fingers were on Draco's lips. "Humor me. I'm open to the possibility of a baby, isn't that enough?"

"You're---" Draco shook his head. Suddenly he smiled. "You're a stupid prick."

Harry's cheeks turned red. "All right..."

"I hate you."

"Er."

Draco hugged him close. "Do you want to get married?"

"Oh God," Harry laughed, slumping forward in what looked to be exhaustion. After wearing his throat dry with what were either chuckles or heaves of pain, he sat up and wiped his eyes on the heel of his hand, and yanked Draco onto his mouth. It made Draco swell with joy that, for the very first time, Harry stopped himself and was deliberately gentle when his hands touched Draco's midsection, as though frightened that Draco and the baby would be smashed into pieces.

They were still kissing passionately when Hermione came in to tell them dinner was getting cold.


	3. Worries

The Ridiculous Notion

by Natt

---

**Chapter Three**: Worries

Draco wanted to get married before he got fat. He didn't think it was too much to ask.

He and Harry didn't know how long it would take to plan a wedding and didn't want a quick ceremony in a courthouse, so they asked the only married friends they knew. The sun was bright that day, and Hermione's face was, too, when Harry and Draco revealed the news. Roger even screeched, wanting to know if he could be the ring bearer.

"Where have you heard about ring bearers?" Harry asked as he pulled the boy into his lap.

"Uncle Daniel."

"Daniel is David's brother," said Hermione. They were around a table in her garden, and she had Regina bouncing on her knee. "Roger was a spectacular ring bearer at that wedding."

"Aha," Harry growled, tickling Roger, "so you've got a monopoly on the job, do you?" Roger giggled and wrestled himself away from Harry and ran into the yard to play. Harry watched after him, saying, "I think we could arrange that."

"Sure we could," said Draco. "Since there's no one better for the job."

"But what about the actual wedding?" Hermione reminded them. "It took much longer than a couple months to plan mine and David's.

"Keep in mind we were both working at the time," said David. "Draco, don't you stay home?"

"Oh, yes," said Draco, sprawling back so widely that Harry had to shield his face from a stray hand. "I'm extremely rich! I don't need to work."

"So you'll be fine planning the wedding yourself?" Harry asked.

"No, I want you to help me."

"But I'm sure you'd do a fine job."

"I know, but I want you to help me." He trailed his thin, white fingers up Harry's wrist, and Harry grabbed them, determined not to blush in front of their friends.

"I'll see what time I can get off work," he said. "Otherwise, I'm all yours on the weekends."

"You're always all mine," Draco cooed, leaning toward Harry. They kissed.

David laughed. "Already acting like newlyweds." 

Draco's eyes glistened in the sunlight, making Harry realize just how much he enjoyed being here with him. It was something he realized often, yes, but every time it happened a clenching sensation took over his stomach and he held Draco as close as he could. Draco's hair smelled lovely, as Harry rested his face against it, and felt warm from the noon heat.

They all lounged, talking idly and sipping water, until Roger came galloping back to the table with a green net in hand.

"Draco, Draco!" he said.

"What, what!"

"Come with me. I almost caught a big yellow fish and I named it after you."

Draco looked at Harry, horrified. "The child has named something slimy after me."

David frowned at Roger. "Your mother and I have told you not to play near the pond without an adult."

"I'm sorry, Dad, but I had to! It was big and yellow and it was right at the edge."

"Well, you'll have to wait until later to go back."

"No! Dad, please, please---"

"Wait," said Draco, standing up. "I'll go with him. I want to see this creature with the honor of having my name."

"Let's go, hurry!" Roger shouted, and was gone in a flash with Draco sauntering behind.

Seeing the way Draco interacted with Roger, Harry was starting to look forward to this child he and Draco were going to have. He imagined Draco and himself teaching a girl with bows on her dress how to feed her cat, or watching Draco read a story to a boy with black hair. He sighed.

"You look positively blissful," said Hermione.

"I'm wondering what my life will be like a few years from now." He shook his head. "I don't have a clue why I waited so long to start a family. I'm twenty-seven years old. Your kids and mine could be somewhere playing together right now, Hermione. They could be best friends."

"I'm sure they'll be fond of each other when they all exist."

He gazed at Draco and Roger's retreating figures. "Hopefully that's not too far off."

"Speaking of far off," she said, adjusting her hold on Regina, "we went off subject. You were asking me how long it took to plan my wedding."

"Yes. Do you think we can pull it together in less than three months?"

"If Draco wants something lavish---and I know he does---it will probably be difficult unless you hire someone."

"We have the money for that."

"But it will make the whole affair less personal, I'd say, having someone else plan your wedding."

"We'll discuss it." Harry scrubbed his hands over his face, thinking back to the conversations about the wedding he and Draco had been having recently. "I think he wants a big engagement party, too."

"Good heavens, he's a busy one! And he wants all this before his second trimester?"

There was a voice from the far end of the garden. "Oi, anyone home?"

They looked up to see Neville Longbottom coming through the gate. Hermione waved. He came around a growth of clustered purple flowers, stopping to feel some petals, and then greeted everyone.

"I saw your cars were here, but no one answered the door. So I came back here. Hope that's all right...."

"It's fine. We've been in the garden all morning," said Hermione. She offered him the last bit of water from a pitcher on the table.

"Thank you."

While Neville drank, Harry noticed a couple books in his hands.

"What are those?" he asked.

"Just some information I promised to bring David." Along with his drinking glass, Neville set the books on the table; David reached out eagerly.

Hermione read over his shoulder as she absently bounced Regina up and down. "David's wanted to plant some sort of---what was it?---magical squash out here for a while, but it's not as though he knows what to look for.

"I really envy you lot sometimes," said David, absorbed in the book already. "This magic stuff is fascinating."

"Is Draco around?" Neville asked, while the others looked at drawings of unusual fruits and vegetables.

"Er, yeah," said Harry, "but he's at the pond with Roger."

"Oh. I don't remember if I've ever been to Hermione's pond. Is it large?"

"It's pretty small, actually. You wouldn't like it."

"I think I'll have a look, if it's all right with Hermione. Would you like to---?"

But Neville didn't finish because Draco had come back with a very wet Roger, both of them panting from their apparent run. Draco wiped his brow as he helped himself to Harry's share of water.

"We raced back," he moaned. "The child is fast."

"Dad!" Roger was saying. "Come with me. You have to come see the fish. Draco was afraid to touch it!"

"In a minute, son. I'm busy," said David.

"No, you have to come now!"

David found himself dragged from his squash books, Hermione smiling after them both. She fanned herself, growing tired and hot with Regina in her lap, and ended up placing the little girl in the cool grass. Regina found a plastic toy train under the table and commenced in smashing it against the leg of Hermione's chair.

"I was not afraid to touch the fish," Draco insisted to Harry and Neville. "When did you get here, Longbottom?"

"A minute ago. How are you?"

"I'm radiant." He perched on the edge of his seat and looked inquisitively at Neville. Harry scooted closer to Draco. "You'll have to tell me all about your apprenticeship. How long have you been under Sprout's thumb?"

"Four years."

"Such a long time."

"Yes. But there's loads to learn about plants. And I _have_ learned loads."

"I'm sure..." said Draco, giving Neville a coy smile.

Harry wondered if now would be a good time to take Neville and show him the pond; instead he cleared his throat, dropping his hand onto Draco's knee, and said, "Didn't you say a couple weeks ago that you were engaged, Neville? Let's hear about that."

Neville flushed. "It's nothing, really."

"Well, I'm eager to learn about your romantic life, Longbottom," said Draco. "Who is it? Male? Female? I hope this person doesn't have warts, because I find warts---"

"I---um---she's very pretty and she knows everything about Herbology."

"Another garden-geek? There are a lot of those floating around." He threw Hermione a look, as if to scold her for the fact that her husband liked such things as well, but she was looking at Harry, who had just readjusted himself so that he was even closer to Draco.

She stood up.

"Draco, look after Regina for me, please."

"All right," he said, and immediately turned back to Neville.

"Harry, I'm going in to get another pitcher of water."

"Right," Harry replied.

"It's a really heavy pitcher."

"Okay."

She put her hands on her hips. "It's a really, really heavy pitcher."

"What? Oh, right."

They left the table and went into the kitchen, where she set about gathering the water as she talked.

"What was that about?"

"I don't know what you mean," said Harry, glancing out the window.

"You were fine when Neville arrived and when Draco came back you started acting oddly." He didn't reply. "You started touching Draco more than usual. You had this bizarre look on your face like you were about to jump up and do something."

"I think you're imagining things. Too much sunlight?"

"In fact, now that I think of it, you often act oddly around Neville."

"Only when Draco is there too."

"What do you mean?" she asked, resting the now full pitcher on the table. She raised her eyebrows at him for a moment before coming to a realization. "Aha. Now I understand."

Harry felt his face heat up. He looked at his shoes, and when he looked back to Hermione she had a triumphant but scolding expression.

"They were flirting!" he claimed.

"It doesn't mean anything. I've seen Draco flirt with Snape, for Merlin's sake."

"You know he dated Neville at Hogwarts, long before---before he and I stopped hating each other. He lost his virginity to Neville! You can't tell me there's nothing between them."

"There's nothing between them but history."

Harry shook his head. He went to the window and peered at Draco, who was laughing and delicately touching Neville's arm. "Oh God, I have to get out there."

"No, I don't think so." Hermione blocked his path. "You'll stay right here until you've stopped being a jealous idiot."

"I'm not---"

"Do you really think I don't know when you're jealous? Both you and Ron are completely obvious."

"I can't help it. Anyone would want Draco."

Hermione was trying not to laugh at him. "Harry, really---"

"It's true! I like Neville. But whenever they're near one another I get worried, like he's going to try and get close to Draco again."

"If that happened, Draco would turn him away."

"What if he didn't? Draco could have anyone he wanted. He's...he's..."

"Harry," she said gently. She smoothed her hand over his cheekbone as he watched the men in the garden. "You're just...foolish and in love. But Neville doesn't feel that way about Draco. Didn't you hear the way he stammered when you mentioned his engagement? Neville loves someone else."

"That doesn't mean he's stopped loving Draco."

"What's brought this on? The two of you just got over a fight. Are you going to pick a new one?"

"No. I won't say a word to Draco about this."

"Good. If I know Draco, he'd be mad at you if you brought it up. Or he'd mock you, more likely, and you'd be humiliated. Try to trust him. Why don't you go play with Roger at the pond to clear your head?"

"Yeah. Might be a good idea."

Part of Harry was frustrated with how Hermione always welcomed herself into his and Draco's business, and part of him was happy she was always there to be right about things. He took a second to will away the anger that he knew would spring up when he saw Draco and Neville side by side. Hermione took the pitcher off the table and they made toward the garden.

"Doesn't look too heavy to me," said Harry, opening the door for her.

"It's not."

---

When Roger saw Harry marching down to the pond, his heart leapt. Harry was great fun, especially when he picked Roger up and swung him around like a yo-yo; and he knew everything there was to know about Muggles. Roger really liked Muggles. Sometimes Mum took him into the Muggle town to buy him a toy or to have dinner at a Muggle restaurant, but not often enough.

"Harry!" Roger yelled, waving his net. He got water on his head when he did it.

"Oh no, Roger," said Dad. He had got water on Dad, too.

"Sorry."

"Having fun?" Harry asked.

"Yeah! We almost caught it. It keeps coming close and swimming away." Roger pointed to the pond, but through the gloomy water they did not see any fish.

"I'd better go change my shirt," said Dad.

"Are you coming back?" Roger asked.

"No, I'll just sit with your mother. If Harry decides to go back, you go with him, all right?"

"Yeah."

Roger saw something wiggly and yellow, and stuck the net into the water, but it was only a plant. He noticed Dad and Harry talking behind him; he didn't listen much because it sounded pretty boring.

"I don't remember being as rowdy he is as a child."

"Most kids are, David."

"Sometimes my mother asked me to play footy with the other boys, but I never liked having balls kicked at my head. I remember sitting in my room with my lizard and homemade mold."

"Sounds like something a husband of Hermione's would be doing."

"Yes, well. I do hope Regina is calmer at his age."

"She'll be a perfect lady, I'm sure."

Roger disagreed. He thought Reggie was a monster. The other day she bit him. But he forgave her because Mum and Dad liked her a lot.

Once Dad had gone, he and Harry looked down into the water. Couldn't see much. It was dark and swirly like the gross soup Mum sometimes fed him.

"What's the fish look like?" Harry asked.

"Like a fish. A big one."

"Maybe it'll come if we say its name."

"Tried that. Me and Draco changed its name. Now the fish is called Potter because Draco said it reminds him of you."

"Hmm." Harry didn't look too pleased. Maybe he was shocked with excitement.

The sun beat down on them and made their hairlines and armpits sweaty. A dragonfly buzzed past, but Roger couldn't catch it in his net. Some birds twittered. He knew Mum liked birds. He wondered if she had heard them.

"Say, Roger?"

"What, Harry?"

"You think I'd be a good Dad?"

"Probably. You're really brilliant."

"Thanks."

"Why do you want to know that?"

"I just wondered."

"Are you going to have a baby?"

"Maybe someday."

"Harry? Is it true that wizards can have babies right there" ---he touched Harry's stomach--- "like girls can?"

"Yes."

"When Mum had Reggie in her stomach, she let me feel Reggie kick. I was just a kid back then."

"You've grown up a great deal, haven't you?"

"Dad thinks it's weird that wizards can have babies in their stomachs, but he says that it's only 'cause he's not used to it. Dad's from the Muggle world. We have a lot of Muggles in our neighborhood. I have a friend called Billy and he's a Muggle."

"Yes, I might have seen him pouring dirt onto your head once. Look." Harry pointed to the left.

The fish!

"What do we do?" Roger whispered.

It swam so close that Roger would feel the ripples of the water if he stuck his finger in. Surely if he moved, the fish would hear the mud making squelchy noises under his shoes, so he turned his head to Harry.

"Hand me the net," Harry whispered back.

Roger gave it to him slowly, and then Harry stuck the net into the water, and then---

"Ahhh!" Roger shrieked. "It's splashing me!"

Harry was quicker than the fish twisting about in the air. Water was flicking about at all angles, making them both shout with glee. In a moment, Harry had the fish out of the net and in his big hands, clenching it firmly. His fingers barely wrapped around the whole yellow fish, whose mouth went bloop, bloop, bloop.

"It's big!" said Roger. "We caught a big fish, Harry!"

"Now what'll we do with it?"

"Eat it!"

"How about we let it go home?"

"Okay!"

So they did. They waded out up to their calves, and Roger touched the fish's smooth scales and gently poked it in the eye before Harry placed it in the water.

"My socks are wet," said Roger, when they went back onto the grass. "Mum'll be angry. She just magicked me dry."

"Take them off."

Harry was a very smart man. They each took off their shoes and socks, and Harry cast a spell. He went to a bush and hung their socks on a branch.

"They'll still take a few minutes to dry. But it'll go quicker now," said Harry.

"Will you teach me that spell when I grow up?"

"I bet they'll show it to you at Hogwarts."

"I hope I get to go there. Mum says I'll probably get a letter when I'm ten. But if I'm not a wizard, I want to be a fisherman."

"You can be both a wizard and a fisherman, if you want."

"Really?"

"Of course."

"I'll do that. And then I'll buy lots of hard to read books like Dad, and then I'll read them, and then...I'll get married."

Harry laughed. "Who are you getting married to?"

"My mum, I guess."

Harry continued to laugh. "I don't know about that."

"That's how it's done. You're supposed to be married to a mum, and I don't know a better one than mine."

"It sounds logical enough. But I think you should wait a few years before you propose."

"Okay."

Harry sighed as he laid himself out in the grass. There were some smelly flowers nearby, the kind that Dad liked to play with. Roger sat cross-legged and watched Harry, who had his eyes closed and his hands behind his head.

"Hey, Harry, are you really going to marry Draco someday?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"Soon, I hope."

"I hope I don't have to wear itchy robes at the wedding."

"I'll tell your mum to make sure they're comfortable ones."

"Okay." He thought hard. "And I think if you have a kid you should name him after the fish."

Harry looked at him. "What," he asked, "you want me to call my kid Potter Potter?"

Roger snickered and fell onto his back. "That would be funny."

Roger curled his toes in the prickly grass. It tickled. He put his foot next to Harry's. He wriggled his big toe, and then Harry wriggled his big toe; he spread his toes apart, and then Harry spread his toes apart. Harry had really huge feet.

"You know, I never had a father of my own," said Harry.

"How come?"

"Bad luck."

"Oh. I bet he would have been nice."

"I bet so, too."

"Do you want to know a secret?"

"Sure."

"If my dad wasn't my dad, I think I'd want you to be my dad."

Harry smiled at him. "Thanks." They looked at their toenails for a minute. Then Harry said, "Shall I tell you a secret, too?"

"Yes!" No grownups ever told him secrets. They only told him to be quiet or to put his toys away. "Yes, tell me a secret."

"You'll have to promise not to tell anyone."

"I promise."

Harry looked over his shoulder, toward the table where everyone was sitting. They couldn't see it with the bushes in the way, but Roger knew Harry was trying to make sure no one was coming. "You see, Draco tells me that he...that he can't wait to be a father. But I'm not so sure I'd be a very good one."

"But you're a brilliant at being a dad, Harry. You're funny and you play with me and everything."

"Well, there are other things to being a father than playing." Roger didn't know what those things were at the moment, so he let Harry keep talking. "Like I said, I never had a father myself...so I wouldn't know what to do."

"Oh. Did you have a mum?"

"No."

"A little sister?"

"No. I had an aunt and uncle, though."

"What were they like?"

Harry paused. "Fine."

"Well, if they were fine then you know how to be a good dad, Harry. But even if you didn't have an aunt and uncle you'd be a good dad, because you're really cool."

Harry sat up and looked out at the pond. He took off his glasses, cleaned them on his shirt, and put them back on. "Ready to go back?" he asked.

"Yes. I want to tell everyone about the Potter the Fish."

They put on their shoes and socks and were off. The sun seemed a lot brighter than before. He guessed it was because they had been in the shade.

"Hey, Roger?" Harry asked as they walked.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for the talk."

Roger filled with pride.

---

"How superficial can a person get?" Hermione asked. "The first thing you do when you decide to get married is pick out your robes?"

Draco stuck his chin forward as they wound their way through Diagon Alley. People were everywhere and he wanted to get to Madam Malkin's as soon as possible; he had no idea how long it would take to choose the appropriate outfit.

"What else could there possibly be to do?" he replied.

"You could plan where to have it, who to invite, what food to serve, what music---"

"I'll figure that out as soon as I do the important stuff. There's an engagement party to plan, too."

"Harry told me about that," she scoffed. "You're going to have a busy schedule for the next couple months."

"It'll be exciting. An adventure."

"I suppose Harry's left you to do the planning for the engagement party as well?"

"Harry, my dear Hermione, is helping me plenty. He did inform me that he didn't want the party to be a formal event. I wanted to use the ballroom at my old mansion, but I suppose we'll make due just having the wedding itself there. Ah, we're here!"

A few students with an early start on the school year were being measured in the shop. Madam Malkin, who was tending to one of them, with pins between her lips, indicated that they could wait next to the counter if they wanted. It was stuffy in the shop with all these materials, and he hoped to find what he wanted quickly and go home. He hoped Harry would be waiting for him and they could continue wedding planning.

"Ginny!" Hermione called.

A tall girl with a nouveau hair style and wild makeup turned to see them, and squealed, "Hello, hello! How long has it been?"

"Too long," said Hermione, examining the name tag on Ginny's shirt. "Since when do you work here?"

"I got the job about a month ago. I'm so pleased. You meet the most interesting people working in a shop, and they have such stories."

"Ron was at my house recently. He didn't mention you had a new job."

"Well, Ron's an imbecile. He doesn't pay attention to things. Who's your friend?"

Draco straightened up a little at the acknowledgment, and Hermione continued before he could speak:

"You know Draco Malfoy, don't you?"

"Draco Mal---oh, oh!" She hurried over to say hello. "So it _was_ you I saw here last week. You were being so polite I hardly recognized you."

"Well, thanks."

"I only met you one time after Hogwarts, when you first started dating Harry, but you weren't yet, really, um---"

"Nice?" Draco smiled as she became flustered. "I think I was in the process of getting used to Harry's friends."

"I see. I had no idea you and Hermione were close."

"Oh, yes, we're the best of friends," Hermione said lightly, running her fingers over a stretch of pink fabric.

"She was with me when I was here the other week," Draco added.

"I must have missed her, then," said Ginny.

"I didn't realize it was you either. Not with all the...." He gestured to the odd pins sticking out of her red hair, which made it resemble fire.

She put her hand to her head. "Do you like it? It's the newest thing. I've been getting into fashion since I met a lady who's a model. She's so nice---"

"Miss Weasley!" shouted Madam Malkin from across the room. "I'm getting very busy, dear. Can you help the next customers?"

"All right!" She looked at them both. "Shall I measure you? What do you need?"

"Robes. Extremely fine robes," said Draco.

"Formal style?"

"Yes."

"And for Hermione?"

"Nothing for me," said Hermione. "I'm here for---ah---support."

Ginny whisked Draco away, and while the magical tape measurer was going she continued to talk. "You and Harry have been together a long time, haven't you? How are the two of you?"

"Engaged."

"Really!"

"That's why I'm here."

"How exciting," she said. The tape measurer had finished its job, and she was busy jotting down something or another. "Will Harry be coming in to find wedding robes, too?"

"Not today. He'll do it on his own eventually. Oh, and I'm going to need robes for the engagement party, too."

"An engagement party. It sounds fun. I've never been to one of those."

"I'm sure you'll be there. Harry will invite all his friends. Plus, Dean Thomas will need an escort."

"Dean. Yeah."

Ginny led him to a less crowded end of the room, away from the students and the mothers with whining children, to reveal a concealed assortment of fabrics, all of which were lush, soft, or exotic. One kind, which she didn't recommend, was stretched out on the wall ("Once you get wrinkles in this stuff," she clarified, "they never, never come out."); another had such complex patterns that it seemed to be a knot of tangled thread; and another kind felt so fragile that it was hardly there.

"What sort of material is this?" Draco asked, after running his fingers over a sheet of bright white material.

"It's called luminance. Mostly used for socks and gloves, because it's so expensive. I think a Muggle singer used to be fond of it---Michael Jacobson---something like that."

"I want it. But not right now. What's that up there?"

"Magically enhanced wool. You'll never itch when you wear it, and it's always warm."

"Ooh, I'll have to have something made for Harry---"

"You're getting off track, Malfoy," Hermione said behind him.

"It's always 'Malfoy' when they're angry with me," he said to Ginny, and she giggled.

"I'm not angry," said Hermione, "but I think you should get a move on."

"Fine, fine, fine."

They set about finding the perfect fabric for his wedding robes. After going through ten or eleven that were absolutely hideous, Ginny threw her hands into the air and said, "How about this? No one's ever bought it," and from an old box, which she took from a locked cupboard, she removed the some of the most handsome material he'd ever seen.

"I've never come across it," said Draco. "No one's _ever_ bought it?"

"Not since I've been here, at least." Ginny placed it into his hands. "The finest material from Arabia. It's illegal to make these days. There's only so much left in the world to be sold."

"Do you know why?"

"Supposedly, it was produced in reams for an ancient king. He wasn't a wizard himself, so he had all the known wizards in his kingdom practically drain themselves of their magic making it for him."

"Why, that Muggle bastard," he said breathlessly.

"And here's the best part!" The three of them leaned in, feeling very sneaky. "It's rumored to be enchanted so that when you're wearing an outfit made of it---the person you love most won't be able to keep his or her eyes off you!"

He grinned at her and immediately asked, "How much?"

Ginny told them it would take a couple weeks to make his robes, the material being so unusual to work with, and he could pick them up or have them delivered through owl post. He chose a more conservative material for his engagement party robes, and went to Hermione's house for lunch and more wedding plans.

He arrived home in an especially good mood that evening. Harry was at the kitchen table, bent over some boring paperwork from Saint Morbus when Draco put his arm across his shoulders said, "Hello."

"How was your day?" Harry asked without paying attention.

"I accomplished a lot."

"Good." He pushed his glasses up his nose.

"We figured out where to have the engagement party."

"Good."

"Neville mentioned this place, where he met his fiancée---at a gardening convention or whatever---and he said the building was used for all sorts of things and very comfortable."

"Neville?" Harry looked up. "What were you doing with Neville?"

"He stopped by Hermione's to pick up the books he let David borrow."

"How long did he stay?"

"I don't know. An hour. What does it matter?"

"Nothing." He went back to his paperwork, but Draco took his chin.

"I'm trying to tell you about our plans." Harry spread his hands in welcome, and Draco sat on the edge of the table and looked down his nose at him. "Well, we thought we should have the party a month from now. Not too short notice to get out invitations, but not too close to the wedding."

"Which will be in...?"

"September. At the end of September. And the party will be the last Saturday of August."

"Hmm." Harry looked troubled.

"What?"

"I scheduled an appointment for your pregnancy test. The only day the mediwizard was free was the last Saturday of August."

"What, there's not more than one doctor?"

"It's not such a large field. There are only so many pregnant men in the world, you know."

"Harry," he said slowly, resting his fingers across Harry's knuckles, "that's the only day the place I want to have the party at has an opening."

"You'll have to find a new place."

"But Neville showed us pictures of it, and it was beautiful."

Harry took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes deeply. "Draco..."

"Anyway," said Draco, "we already know I'm pregnant. There's no need for an appointment."

"We don't know that," Harry said tightly.

"There's no need to get frustrated."

"Draco," he snapped. "I need to know as soon as possible. It's driving me mad. I have to know for a fact that you're pregnant."

"Do you want to cancel the engagement party?"

"No," said Harry, running a hand over his face and slipping his glasses back on. "We can make room for both. The appointment's in the afternoon, and we can have the party in the evening. It'll be fine."

Draco sighed, drumming his fingers on his knees. There was more and more to do and so little time in which to do it! He slid off the table and put his hands into Harry's hair, pulling him close. Harry exhaled slowly. He put his arms around Draco's middle and his head on Draco's stomach.


	4. Resolutions

The Ridiculous Notion

by Natt

---

**Four**: Resolutions

It wasn't his dream job. He had known that from the start. But it was keeping him near Ginny.

Dean chanted that to himself as he made his way out of the storage room, his polished shoes tracking through dust and paper scraps. He pocketed the mechanical pencil he'd popped in to grab and tucked the file he was about to deliver under his arm. He shimmied around the Post-it Note crates, hopped over a couple old fax machines---and nearly collided with his new boss.

"Thomas," Mr. Stevens growled. "What are you, an animal?"

"No, sir. Sorry, sir."

"Hurry it up with those papers."

_Forgot about that__!_ he thought, as Mr. Stevens trudged off.

Dean hurried to the back of the storage room to find the stack of papers. He took the file from under his arm and put it between his teeth, hoping he could get the stack to Mr. Stevens' office before the lady who needed the file came skulking around again. The stack weighed than it looked. _Lift with your legs, not your back_, that's what his father had once told him. As he walked toward Mr. Steven's office, he wondered why these papers weren't in a box instead of being thrown into the storage room to be trampled on.

"Where would you like these, sir?"

Mr. Stevens glanced up at him in the middle of a phone call, gesturing with his ballpoint that Dean should drop them on the empty chair.

"Thomas," he called, as Dean was leaving. "I'll need my coffee thermos refilled."

"Yes, sir."

As Dean left the office, he bumped into Anita. She was the third person that day he nearly tripped.

"Thomas," she greeted uninterestedly, brushing off her stiff skirt. "Where's the file?"

"What?"

"The file. The one you were bringing me. Did it even arrive yet?"

"Oh! I must have left it in Mister Stevens' office. I'll just go and---"

But when he turned around, there was a sign on Mr. Stevens' locked door: IMPORTANT BUSINESS. DO NOT DISTURB.

"Damn it!" Anita cried. Her lazy eyes were wide now. She launched herself at the door, twisting the stubborn handle and pounding it with her shoulder. "Stevens, my deadline is an hour away! I need that information!"

Dean slunk off before she realized the mistake was his.

The cool wall of the storage room was lovely to put his head against while he reminded himself how stupid he had been for taking this job. He did errands for low-paid reporters. He was a wizard, for God's sake. A wizard! He could have his entire day's work done in a minute if he took his wand out of his pocket. But he was among Muggles.

He had invested his years after Hogwarts in writing. He liked writing; it kept his mind off the worst of things and he could build entire worlds about the best of things. In the wizarding world, though, there was little call for new reporters and novelists. All the worthwhile newspapers were elite or family operated. He just couldn't make a living there. In the Muggle world, he had few credentials. What could he say? "I went to a mysterious school in the middle of a forest and learned how to wave a stick around."

Sometimes he wished he'd taken the path most of his friends took. Neville had gone into Herbology. Harry was a mediwizard. Ron tamed dragons.

You know, sensible things.

But here he was on a plastic chair, being choked by a tie and collar and wondering how he could have made things better for himself.

"This is for Ginny," he chanted. "For Ginny."

"Thomas, are you going to lay around all day?" came a shout.

"No, sir!"

That night Dean arrived home with aching legs. He'd missed the football match he had wanted to see on television. Seamus had left a message saying something about a party, and went on about how much he loved these Muggle answering machines, and could Dean really, actually, without a doubt hear him through the other end even if he wasn't at home, and---?

Beep.

Seamus hadn't worked out there was a time limit.

Dean spent some time looking at the pictures on his small, scrubbed kitchen counter. There was a group shot of everyone in his year at Hogwarts: Padma Patil twirled her hair on her finger, Hermione had a quill behind her ear and seemed itching to get back to the library, Malfoy looked irritated that he was put next to Ron, and Seamus' hand hovered over Dean's shoulder as though hesitant. He had never noticed that.

Dean felt loneliness deep in his stomach.

He dug out some photo albums and journals full of drawings he'd kept at school. He wasn't far into them when he heard a tap from the window. He let a chirpy tan owl in. It waited, so he offered it some water and untied the envelope from its leg while it drank. He found a sort of card. It was a smart piece of stationary, if he said so himself, with black script and pale, swirling designs on the corners. As he read the message, the loneliness in him transformed into a happiness he'd not felt since he moved to the city, far away from his friends and family.

_Messrs. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy would be pleased to have you for a celebration  
announcing their engagement._

_30 August 2008****_

_5 o'clock_

_Snortle and Dobbs All Purpose Building_

_Hogsmarrow_

---

Ron was stunned. Harry was getting married! His best friend Harry, who'd worn tents for clothes and huge, taped glasses, was getting married to the gittiest git who ever lived. What was the world coming to?

He had to admit, though, the great room he found himself in for the engagement party was spiffed up well. You couldn't even tell there were Mandrakes and Mimbulus-mimble-what's-its here at one point. The dazzling chandeliers made him feel underdressed in his plain, green robes and sure that Malfoy had chosen the white roses and the lacy table cloths just to get on Ron's nerves. Any second Malfoy would be sauntering by, saying, "Oh, these old things? I just had them laying around." Relief washed over him when he noticed the other guests were in a similar state, having casual robes and looking completely out of place.

Ron found some old schoolmates to chat with: Finch-Fletchly and his wife; Hannah Abbott, who was now playing for an American Quodpot team; and Seamus, who he'd patted on the shoulder and spoken to about his family's bicycle shop (they were looking for new employees and Seamus still had his hopes up for Dean). He saw Fred and waved hello. Ron didn't know anyone else from his family had been invited. Next to a massive mermaid ice sculpture, he noticed Hermione's husband discussing something apparently enthralling with Neville. Neville's girlfriend was by his side.

Ron moved through the crowd. He hadn't seen many of these people in years, and hanging around dragons all day hadn't given him a chance to develop his conversational skills; he decided to sit back and look for someone he was really used to. Didn't see Harry or Hermione anywhere.

There was some food across the way, though.

The hors d'oeuvres table stretched across the length of the hall, so he could have an entire section to himself while he waited for someone interesting to wander over. Someone did.

"All right, Ron?"

"Hello, Dean."

"I haven't seen Harry yet. Have you?"

"No, actually. I've been around the place twice and haven't seen either Harry or Malfoy. Not great hosts, are they?"

"They'll be around." Dean tapped his shoe on the floor. "Music's nice."

"Yeah." If you liked snooty, mild stuff. All Malfoy's doing, he reckoned. "Say, is Ginny here?"

"Um. She couldn't make it. She had a meeting or appointment with some lady---Victoria, or something of the like. I told her I wasn't going to come if she wasn't, but then I changed my mind."

"We can bachelor around together, then."

"Oh, you didn't bring that girl---Martha?"

"We had differences. I moved out a couple days ago."

"I didn't know you'd moved in."

"Didn't want to make a big deal of it."

"Ah. Is there someone else?"

"Well...yes and no." Ron smiled a bit, remembering that enchanting Tuesday. The woman he'd been with, she'd smelled of vanilla and was just so...lovely. "I met her in Diagon Alley. We---well---we went to bed and we talked and she was great."

"See her again. Maybe you'll stick around for more than a couple months."

Ron laughed. "It's a possibility. But I don't even know her name."

"Good Lord," Dean said amiably. "You're hopeless! Perhaps if you hang around Diagon Alley she'll turn up."

"That could work. Or I could go straight to her house. I still have her floo address."

"Good thinking."

They sampled the bread and vegetables until Ron turned and noticed a murmur going through the guests. Some people who were sitting had stood. A nosy-looking woman climbed onto her table and said, "I don't see a thing, Gloria!" The people were gossiping to one another in a fever that hadn't been there before.

Ron saw a splotch of red from the corner of his eye, and moved to see his sister dashing toward him. "Ron, you're here!" she said. "Did you see what happened? I didn't see a thing, but I heard---"

"Ginny," Dean said, startled. "What are you doing here? You said you weren't coming."

"You said _you_ weren't coming," she breathed.

"Oh, I found what the commotion's about, Virginia!" called a voice not far off. A beautiful woman in revealing robes swept up and placed her hand on Ginny's lower back. Ron recognized her, but before he could say anything the woman went on. "It was Mister Potter and his fiancé running outside to the fountains! They say his fiancé had tears in his eyes." The woman suddenly looked startled. "Virgina, whatever's the matter, darling?"

Ginny's freckles were tinted in red. She was still looking at Dean, who stared back.

"You!" Ron exclaimed.

The woman next to Ginny looked at him, and in an instant she was stricken. "Oh my. Hello."

"What are you doing here?" Ron asked. "Are you a friend of Harry's? Why didn't he tell me he knew you?"

"Did he say something about me?" the woman asked hungrily. "Does he remember me? Virginia, I _told_ you I'd met Harry Potter!"

"Virginia?" Dean asked, his eyebrows lowering at Ginny. "You hate being called Virginia."

"Why would she hate it?" the woman asked. "That's her name." She looked at Dean like something was sprouting from the side of his head.

"Wait, how do you know my sister?" Ron demanded. "How do you know---er, er---this woman, Ginny?"

The woman looked at Ron and then at Ginny, realization kindling in her very lovely eyes; she saw the red of their hair and the freckles first, but then she saw the way their noses came to the same long point and the thin arch of their eyebrows. She put a hand to her bosom. "Oh. Your sister...?" she said.

"Ginny?" Dean said faintly.

They all turned to her. She had become quite pink.

---

Although Draco had shed only one or two tears, Harry held him so tightly that he might have been crying fountains. The thought reminded him of where they were---in the middle of the court yard, humiliatingly enough, standing by a tall fountain.

Draco's voice shuddered against Harry's chest: "What about what they say...about men who love each other having babies? That's how you get pregnant. It's supposed to happen if you love each other."

"Draco," he said roughly, "it's just a rumor. I promise you."

"I was so sure. I felt it, I'm telling you, Harry."

"I know."

"You did want the baby, didn't you? You did _want_ me to be pregnant?"

"Yes. I did. I was...starting to get excited about it."

"Sorry I got your hopes up." He pressed his face harder against Harry. "I didn't mean to."

"You didn't. Don't blame yourself."

"I'm sorry...."

"It's not your fault, Draco."

"Why are you calm?"

"I don't know."

Harry's jaw was tense, as it became when he was upset. The way he was dressed, with his neatly pressed cobalt robes and combed hair, reminded Draco of a powerful sorcerer, ready to strike down anything in his path. Draco touched Harry's jaw and it visibly relaxed. He ran his fingers over Harry's shaven chin and over the curve of his bottom lip. He brought his arms down and held Harry around the waist.

"You would have been a good father," said Draco.

Harry didn't reply. He pulled away from Draco, walking the short distance to a bench. He sat and put his head in his hands.

"Would you like to know the reason I wouldn't believe you were pregnant at first?" he asked.

Draco couldn't hide his surprise. "If you want to tell me, yes."

"I...didn't think I'd be a very good father."

"Why?"

"Isn't it obvious? I don't know what a father's supposed to do. My uncle wasn't a role model. The closest thing I had was---was Sirius, and that was brief and he was really more like a brother. Maybe Mister Weasley...maybe I could ask him about parenthood, but I..."

"You don't need lessons. You would learn it as it went along."

Harry exhaled loudly. "Not anymore."

"No."

Draco sat next to him. He put his arms around Harry, who looked dizzy enough to fall off the bench. He put his head against Draco's. From here, they could hear the chatter and happiness in the main room and the peaceful way the water trickled. It was nauseating.

"Harry," he said urgently.

"What's wrong?"

"This doesn't mean---this---"

He looked up. "What?"

"This doesn't mean we're not getting married?"

"Why would you think that?"

Draco shook his head. "I had the thought that you might not want to marry me if kids weren't involved."

"No. Kids have little to do with it. Well. All right. Maybe the thought of kids _reminded_ me to marry you. But I would have. I swear. I mean, I still will!"

"I believe you," he sighed, resting his head on Harry's shoulder. "What if all these people had showed up and we ended up canceling the wedding?"

"Wouldn't be ideal."

"I feel stupid in Muggle clothes, while you're all dressed up. I should change into my robes."

"Guess so."

They didn't move yet. Music floated around them, glasses clinked, crickets sung. But they didn't move until somehow, silently, they assured one another that everything would be just as cheerful today as they had intended.

Harry had changed into his robes beforehand, but Draco hadn't wanted to show up at the hospital in engagement party attire; so he'd reserved a room upstairs for himself, where he'd stored his robes for safekeeping. When they arrived, Draco stood in the room and fiddled with the hem of his shirt.

"Aren't you going to change?" Harry asked.

"Um. Go away."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Are you afraid of me seeing you naked?"

"Ha."

"I'll see you out there, then."

When the door clicked shut, Draco turned to the white box on the bed. He'd secretly decided to wear the robes of ancient, expensive material to the engagement party; perhaps he didn't want his and Harry's attraction to one another to be influenced by their magic on the wedding day. The engagement party was for fun, though, not seriousness. He hadn't opened the box yet, hadn't seen the robes inside. He'd just left Ginny and Madam Malkin to it. He hoped they did a good job.

He lifted the lid, thinking he shouldn't be worrying about robes when he'd just received some of the worst news of his life, but something told him not to dwell on a baby that had never been.

With some maneuvering, Draco had the new robes on his body. They weren't bad, he thought, as he observed himself in the mirror. He was doing up small, pearl-like buttons when Hermione knocked on the door and came in.

She gasped. "I thought you were going to wear that at the wedding."

"I know. Changed my mind. Something about wearing them to the wedding didn't seem right. I want Harry to see me, not my magical robes, then. And---all right!---I couldn't wait to try these out on him. He'll be driven mad with lust and we'll fornicate in the pretty fountain."

"You're a tart," she said. "Why do I put up with you?"

"Do you like the robes? Are they too gaudy?"

"I think they suit you." She walked around him and brushed a bit of thread off his shoulder. "Yes, you look good."

"Well, don't look too hard. I'm engaged, in case you don't remember."

"Sorry, I don't go for effeminate sorts."

"Hermione! I'm not effeminate. I'm selectively masculine."

She stood aside as he looked into the long mirror. They were pale blue and at some angles caught light in a way that mesmerized the eye. The hem swept over the floor in a graceful flutter, and foreign etchings he had never seen in all his language studies as a child decorated the buttons. The silk fastening curled around him and hung in a knot on his flat front. He had said he didn't want to be fat on his wedding day, and today was not his wedding day at all, but what he would have given to see a protruding belly there...

"Draco?" Hermione said quietly.

"Yes?"

"Harry told us what happened."

He turned his head and came into contact with the cloud of soft, invisible perfume around her. He hadn't realized she was so close. "Us?" he asked. "How many people did he tell?"

"Only David and me. Harry said we were the only ones who knew in the first place."

"Hmm."

"Draco." She touched his hand. Their fingers entwined. It made him sadder. "Will you be able to have a good time tonight?"

"I should hope so. I paid a great deal for the decorating."

"You don't have to pretend to be shallow, you know."

"Well, I am shallow. Shallow is who I am: Draco Malfoy---effeminate, tarty, and shallow."

"No," she shushed, putting a finger to his lips.

He smiled. "I'll be fine, Granger."

They made their way to the party.

The floor shook under the lumbering partiers, all Draco's age or in that vicinity. He supposed their ages justified the seizure-like movements they called dancing. A modern song was echoing in the room. He didn't know who had requested it. When he found out, he would do away with that person and make sure all the music was pre-chosen in the future. He remembered asking for something snooty and mild.

He moved on.

What! The ice mermaid was dripping!

"_Glacify_," he said.

Hopefully that would hold it.

He went among the sympathetic looks of people who wanted to know why he'd been upset. He tried to find someone less caring with whom to socialize. He was drawn back to the courtyard.

Merlin. Just who he wanted to see: Weasley, with his ugly head in his hands, his elbows on his knees, plopped like a sack onto a bench near the fountain.

"This seat saved?" Draco drawled, shooing Weasley to one side. He sat. He beat his foot on the gravel path, his head having suddenly filled with "Weasley Is Our King." He wondered if the band knew that one.

"She's a lesbian," came a murmur.

"Er, what?"

"A lesbian." Weasley turned to him. "I met a really wonderful girl, fucked her, and she turned out to be queer---and dating my sister!"

"Huh. Do you have more than one sister?"

"No. Just the bratty little one."

"I could have sworn she was seeing Dean Thomas."

"She was."

"Oh, good," he said, and settled closer to Weasley to hear everything.

"I don't know whether to blame Ginny for dating the witch of my dreams or to blame Dean for not keeping Ginny preoccupied."

"Who's going to blame the lesbian for wandering outside her orientation?"

Weasley glared at him. "Figures you'd be the only one around to comfort me."

"Comfort? Is that what this is?"

"I'll be alone for the rest of my days."

Draco felt happy all of a sudden.

"_I'm_ getting married, you know," he said.

"So I heard."

"It's going to be grand, you know."

"I bet."

"Outrageously expensive---far more money than you'll ever have, I'm sure. We'll probably have a honeymoon somewhere torturously comfortable. I'll just die of happiness in Harry's company."

"I hate you."

"I love every minute of it."

"You're polite to me when Harry's around."

"Isn't it deceitful?"

Weasley didn't reply. He looked on with sad eyes at Draco's white hair fluttering in the breeze. For a split second, he looked at Draco's robes. Draco hoped he felt poor in his old green rags.

He was now bored with Weasley. Best insult him a bit more and be in his way.

"It seems you've had more than one 'witch of your dreams.' Harry's told me all about it. Let's see: there's the lesbian, and further back there was Martha, Adrienne, Bianca, Cindy, some miscellaneous Muggles. My, I bet you have sticky sheets."

"Shut your gob," said Weasley.

The words were there, but lacked any vigor. Weasley continued to stare at him as though he'd never seen him.

"Why don't you give up on girls, Weasel? I mean, they clearly have no interest in you at all."

"Malfoy."

"What?"

"Look that way," he said, with a pointing finger. Draco did so, and didn't see a thing except the side of the building. When he turned back, Weasley was much too close to him, and his mouth---

"Oh my God!" Draco whimpered, but Weasley was already holding him close by the upper arms.

---

Hermione had seen it all, of course. She was pretty sneaky if you kept an eye on her, but usually she was keeping an eye on you---Draco, in this case. She knew how torn up he was about the pregnancy, and had been spying from a window when Ron gave up his dignity in a moment of impulse.

She left them to repair the situation themselves, feeling that Draco would either hex Ron, squawk at him, or combine the two and run away in a snit. She didn't want to be there when Draco thought himself in a moral dilemma because she had seen enough dramatics for one evening, what with Ginny and her two lovers, Ron and his harem of disappointment, Dean and his contained sorrow, and most importantly to her---Harry and Draco's sadness about...well, it's quite obvious by now.

Hermione moved back to where she had left Harry before she found Ron and Draco in the garden. He was admiring the ancient pottery display, probably wondering why there was one at his engagement party but, nonetheless, admiring. From the corner of his eye, he zoomed in on Neville, who was engrossed in his girlfriend. Hermione had learned her name was Patsy and they were not so much engaged in matrimony as much as they were engaged in each other's tongues. That seemed to make Harry uncomfortable. He'd been expecting pureness from Neville, something to assure him that he needn't be on the lookout for Draco's welfare. Hermione took note, also, that Harry had been so focused on Neville's whereabouts since he left the private changing room that he had lost track of Draco altogether and was not there when Ron took advantage of the situation.

Neville, good Neville, had no designs toward stealing Draco away. But Harry had overlooked his best friend in his irrational suspicion that his fiancé was going to be stolen from him.

Men!

---

Everything seemed in order, or as in order as it was going to be. Patsy appeared nice enough. Or, at least, she kept Neville occupied. It was fine for now, Harry guessed.

He felt he had socialized plenty in the past twenty minutes. He now wanted to spend some time with Draco. He smoothed his robes, hoping his hair was still as straight as it had been when he'd caught Draco's approving looks at it earlier, and made his way across the shining room. Luck would have it that he ran into Draco, who stormed right into his chest.

"Whoa, Malfoy, what's the rush?"

"'Malfoy' is it?" he hissed. "Is that all I am now? Just some stupid surname? Something you can throw around and do anything you want to?"

"What are you on about---?"

"I hate Gryffindors! You slimy, arrogant lot of---"

"Draco, sorry! What did I do?"

Draco stopped. He took a breath. He slumped forward and sighed onto Harry's neck. "Nothing. Didn't have such a great start to the party."

"What happened?" Harry asked. "Besides...you know...." He looked piteously at the side of Draco's head.

"It's got nothing to do with...that. But you'll hate me."

"I can't hate you. We're not even married yet."

Harry felt a smile against his skin. He put a hand on Draco's head to hold him there as dancers whirled around them.

"I'm feeling like I felt at Hogwarts. I have the sudden urge," Draco declared, "to call you Potty and run off with my evil friends, plotting my next scathing remarks toward your scar, Granger's parentage, and Weasley's financial status."

"By all means."

"Already finished the latter item."

"How awful. I'm sure he's scarred for life."

"No, that's you---remember?" He pulled back and tapped Harry's forehead. "But. Well. Just a moment ago, I was outside being my delightful self to Weasley...and..."

"It can't be all that bad."

"It's not my fault in the least."

"Tell me."

"You'll hate me."

"I doubt it. If I end up hating you, at least I'll be able to return this worthless party junk and get my money back. Those everlasting white roses and that set of Egyptian Tupperware are pretty useless looking."

"The roses add fragrance to the air and the Tupperware was property of King Tut! Do you know who that is, sweetness?"

"Shut up. Why is it all here?"

"I thought I'd impress my old friends."

"I did see Gregory Goyle stumbling around near the food a while ago. Oh, pardon, sorry---"

Someone had bumped into Harry, doing a backwards sort of jig. He and Draco moved to a table under a chandelier, which Draco marveled at until he noticed a waiter with champagne and tried to signal him over.

"I think we got off subject," said Harry.

"Hmm?"

"What happened with Ron?"

"If I never tell you, you'll never find out. Weasley won't say a word."

"I'm his best friend! I'll go to him right now and he'll tell me everything."

"He won't say a thing."

Harry rested his head on his fist. "Why?"

"He's in mourning."

"Oh, I heard about Ginny and that Victoria person. Did he talk to you about that?"

"Sort of." Draco waved his arm, but the waiter was still not looking. "But he's mourning over something else now---his embarrassment, which he suffered in my presence. At my expense, actually! In fact, I was _quite_ involved in it."

"Just tell me already! What happened?"

"I don't think I'll say."

"I'll get Hermione to tell me. I saw her spying on you when you went outside."

Draco straightened up in surprise. "What's that? Hmm?"

"Hermione. Spying on you."

"Why?"

"She was worried about you. She doesn't think I do, but I read her like a book."

"What a perfect analogy for that woman."

"Thank you."

"And while all this was happening, what were you doing, Harry, darling?"

Harry paused. He then realized what he had been doing, while Draco was doing...er, whatever he had been doing. He didn't know what facial expression to have while he was thinking about it, so his face decided for him: a simple flush.

"Oh, you're red!" Draco cried. "Tell me."

"Ah...no."

"Oh. I know. You were spying on _him_."

"What? Who's 'him?'"

"Don't pretend. I know everything about you. I know which brand of toilet paper you wipe your arse with. I know you're jealous of Neville Longbottom."

"Why on earth would I be jea---?"

"Because I dated him at Hogwarts, obviously, and you think he'll miraculously fall into my arms after all his claims that he'd been going through an experimental stage. It was sure experimental for me---I learned never to date a boy with a toad. I smelled of amphibian in the most ungainly parts of my body; but I also know, Harry, that you're too polite to inquire about that." He swept his hair out of his face to fan his neck. "And haven't you noticed Longbottom's not been with one man since me? Ten years ago! You're a jealous, jealous, stupid person."

Harry's cheeks burned in his hands. The waiter finally came by, and Harry swiped a couple glasses and pressed one to his face.

Draco took his own and knocked it back. Harry blinked.

"Poor, poor, Harry. His lover caught him in a pitiful act," said Draco, looking down at the remains in the glass.

"Are you going to tell me what happened with Ron, or am I going to get my information from Hermione---who, by the way, will probably make the explanation far more detailed than you will, and that's to my benefit."

Draco looked nauseated at having wasted all that champagne, but ready to confess:

"Weasley kissed me. He really, really kissed me."

Harry blinked some more.

---

Harry would kill him. It wasn't polite, really, killing one's best friend. Ron had never done it, but he didn't think his own best friend would have any objections to the act now that Ron had molested his fiancé.

Merlin's pointed hat! When he thought of Malfoy as someone's fiancé it made it all the worse.

It had been a mistake. Ron knew it as soon as he had opened his mouth against Malfoy's. And it had nothing to do with the fact that Malfoy had bit his tongue. No, no, Ron would have pulled back anyway.

He'd been entranced by the fact that even Malfoy could keep himself in a stable relationship and a great rocket had gone off inside Ron's head, urging him go, go, go---_that pretty little mouth is right there, Weasley! Kiss it, Weasley! You can have stability, too, Weasely!_ At the time it made sense.

After avoiding Harry for an hour, during which Ron had a silent dinner with a group of former Slytherins, he went to the restroom to clean the remainder of blood from his mouth. He would be tasting it for days. Bastard Malfoy and his bastard teeth.

When he came out, Harry was waiting for him in the main room. His face was blank.

"Um." Ron put his hands in front of him as if evoking the help of a mighty spirit. "I can explain!"

"Draco told me---"

"I'm sure you're furious, but there's no need to get wands involved. I know you're angry---"

"Ron, it's---"

"No, I know. I just hope you can look past that and see---"

"Wait, Ron! I understand why you did it."

His hands dropped to his sides. "Y-you do?"

"Yeah. Draco thinks it was psychological reaction to having so many failures in your love life; you hit your boiling point and took out your frustrations on the nearest person, and because he happened to be one who you disliked you wanted to overcome your enmity and finally achieve satisfaction in an unpleasant relationship. He also thinks that because this attempt was a failure, too, you're ego will continue to suffer."

"...Does he?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

"Is that what you were going to say?"

"Er. I was going to tell you I was drunk." _And that Malfoy had shown me his upper thighs._

"Yeah. Probably that, too."

"Um. We could have a butterbeer. Or some champagne."

"I've seen enough champagne for the evening. I'll grab a couple butterbeers."

Ron nodded, and slumped at a nearby table, where numerous plucked petals were strewn. His arms hung at his sides. He was thankful that Harry wasn't the jealous type.

---

Despite the questionable activities earlier, Harry was caught in delight he hadn't encountered since the big seventh year bash at Hogwarts, which had taken place in a hideaway under the Hufflepuff common room. The alcohol here was better and the attendance larger, but tonight he kept with a small number of people sober people: his former roommates, Hermione and her family, the Weasleys, and Draco.

Draco was becoming more beautiful by the minute. Harry had never seen him in such robes. He kept swooshing around and drawing Harry in, alternately smiling and smirking to display this newfound power he had over Harry's attention. He wouldn't let Harry grope him behind the giant, historic Morgana statue. He snaked away and turned up again with little desserts to pop into Harry's mouth. The most he would let Harry touch him, if they weren't dancing, was to let him suck the chocolate off his wet fingertips.

Harry danced with Ginny, Pansy Parkinson, and Professor McGonagall, who he didn't know Draco had invited. He looked around and was relieved to find Snape wasn't there; surely Draco would have invited him. After dancing with Colin Creevey twice and tapping his foot during a fast number called "The Wizard Lizard," he adjourned to sit with Ron again. They were getting on fine.

He and Ron attracted Seamus, Dean, and Neville, and it was like they were at their favorite restaurant having a monthly visit. They bumped glasses and stomped feet, having a ruckus of a time.

Neville was grinning as he held his wine glass to his mouth. "Oh, Dean," he said, "did you get the job you were telling us about?"

"Yes," said Dean, looking shaky and somewhat confused. After what had happened, Harry couldn't blame him. "I think I'm going to quit and take a holiday, though."

"What!" Seamus shouted. "After all that searching for the right job you're going to pack up and---"

"It's not really the right job. Not what I expected. And there's, well, the issue with Ginny...." He gave Ron an understanding smile.

"Yeah," Ron grumbled. "I saw _Virginia_ and_ Victoria_ dancing a few minutes ago."

"Where're you going to go, Dean?" Harry asked quickly.

"Ireland," he said, and glanced to Seamus. "I mean, if that's all right."

"It...it's your life," said Seamus.

"I'm thinking of looking into bicycles."

"Oh," he said faintly. "I can help you with that."

The talk spiraled into bike races, Quidditch, Hogwarts, their lives after Hogwarts, and then into commentary about the great room's setup.

"Can you believe it?" Harry was saying. "I asked him---I told him, 'Draco, I want it to be casual,' and he went and did this. And he wants the wedding to be at his parents' mansion with 'more appropriate furnishings.' I can only imagine."

Ron snorted. "You got yourself into this, Harry. I've always said he was trouble."

"Yes. But he's worth it."

Over his shoulder, he watched Draco conduct the band with his wand, although they weren't paying him any mind.

Their eyes met. When Draco made a come hither gesture, Harry went with the jerk of that finger on an imaginary leash.

Harry and Draco danced. They danced until their feet ached and guests began to call it a night, and paused only to say goodbye to their friends.

Draco made declarations of ardor into Harry's hair and mouth, and began a quiet song with the trumpets and violins and wizard instruments to which Harry didn't know any names:

_I'll love you till your hair turns gray,_

_Then hire a teenaged pool boy._

_I'll pinch his bum all night and day,_

_But he won't compare to you, Toy.___

"Did you make that up by yourself?" Harry asked.

"I'm a poet," Draco replied. "Didn't you know?"

"I knew. You look good tonight."

"You've told me several times. Watch out, I might start to get a big head."

They spun through the thick, flower-scented air, mashed together on the floor, but tried not to dance too heartily lest all the remaining happiness of the night would be shaken out of their bodies. Harry's insides were curdling; this would be done tomorrow, and in a month they would be married. They would take that final step of detachment from the rest of the world. There would be an empty spot in their lives, much like the one in Draco's stomach.

No matter how hard Harry tried to convince himself they would live content in their flat until the end of their days, he knew it would not feel the same as it had before Draco told him they were having a baby. He would wake up one day and be very lonely, regardless of the loving arms around him.

He looked at Draco's glowing face for a long moment. Draco appeared to grow worried, looking at his expression, but before he could speak Harry had asked it.

"Do you want to have a baby?"

"Pardon me?"

"We can have a baby---we can plan it all out. It doesn't have to be accidental." Harry's hands trembled on Draco's shoulder blades. His eyes bored into Draco's. "We'll go to the hospital and discuss it with the mediwizard. We'll make an appointment immediately, and we can have a child together."

"Harry, are you sure you---?"

"Yes! I need to have a family with you. We'll be happy, I promise."

"You're not joking with me? I'll murder you if you're joking."

"No!" Harry held him at arms' length to look him square in the eye. "I want to have a baby with you as soon as possible."

Draco slowly smiled and then found himself clenching Harry around the middle. They were both laughing. "I want to carry the baby," said Draco, pulling away. "I've been set on the thought for so long that I can't imagine it any other way."

"Fine. Whatever you want."

"And we can still get married?"

"Of course!"

"But I want to wait until after we get married to do this."

"Yes, yes, all right!"

"Harry," he laughed, "calm down."

Draco's hands were warm on his face. He couldn't stop kissing Harry's cheeks. His smile was so wide that it looked like it hurt.

"Tell me about how we started dating," said Harry.

"I'm appalled you don't remember."

"I do remember. I want to hear it from your overdramatic mouth."

"I'll add sound effects. Once upon a---"

"Please don't. Just the story."

"What's there to say?" He looked to the ceiling, trying to find a way to start. Harry followed his gaze, and for the first time he noticed fairies shimmering in the darkest corners. "We met again, several years after Hogwarts, at Quality Quidditch Supplies. I bet that's why you like going there so much."

"You don't think it has anything to do with brooms?"

"Not at all. It was the debut of the Firebolt Three, so I suppose that was your reason for being there at the time. But _I _didn't know that, and I was quite annoyed once I arrived, because I hadn't expected the place to be flocked with twelve-year-olds wanting a peek at the new broom."

"You did look disgruntled."

"You said you wanted to hear this story from _me_."

Harry rested his lips against Draco's temple in apology. "Go on."

"Ahem. I didn't go into public often, I remember. It was just after Mum and Dad fled the country and I...well, I wasn't in the mood to deal with crowds and things. All I wanted was a Quidditch magazine, and then there you were, looking at me like I'd insulted you."

"But I---"

"I noticed you were blushing---and looking very cute doing so, might I add. You were looking at my magazine. You had no idea I enjoyed the shirtless edition of Quidditch Men Monthly." Harry smiled. The room was quite silent now, but he didn't want to stop their swaying. "And you, Potter, thought I was breathtaking."

"Did I?"

"Yes," said Draco. "I could tell. You wanted to ask me out but didn't know how to strike up a conversation with your schoolboy rival, so I asked you whether you read this magazine, and you blushed harder. I was ecstatic. We went on a date, and then more, and then we were exclusive, and soon I moved out of my mansion---Heaven only knows why---and into your flat, where you now use my body for vulgar experimentation."

Harry rested his forehead on Draco's shoulder, smiling. "And here we are," he murmured.

They continued to dance.

They danced until a flautist tapped Harry on the shoulder to say that the band was leaving. He ignored her, which embarrassed Draco, and they went on dancing.

Harry learned the fairies were artificial when the tremor of beating wings skimmed his ears as they descended from the ceiling like deflating balloons at a child's birthday. Draco promised to use real fairies at the wedding, flicking one off Harry's shoulder.

Before long, the manager informed them the building was closing. Harry didn't see why they should have to leave when there was a perfectly good dance floor to make use of; however, Draco took him by the hand and led him to the exit. They returned home, where they would continue to live together happily, and where, someday, they would raise a child together. Happily.

[Finis.]


End file.
